The play's the thing...

The White Divers of Broome

2012-02-01T17:21:00.013+08:00

Monday, 30 January 2012

State Theatre of Western Australia, Perth

Illuminating the dark past and shocking racism at the birth of Australia’s federation, Black Swan’s inaugural production of its 2012 season is a visually stunning submergence into the capitalistic history of Western Australia’s pearling industry.

Following the self declared “progressive” reporter Regina (Jo Morris), on assignment from Melbourne publication The Labour Gazette, we are ushered into an era that has some intriguingly similar secessionist musings to our own current affairs.

A federal government policy to ensure a strong labour market for white Australians means the displacement of all other races, seen as either inferior and dying out (indigenous); or foreign, coloured and therefore to be suspicious of (various Asiatic races including the Japanese and Malays).

These pearling empires are run by Anglo-Australian overseers, most notably Pigott (a strong and broadly layered performance from Ian Toyne); who has decided to break ranks and run the White Experiment, contracting three British Royal Navy Divers to satisfy the new government edict. These men are far from home and encounter contradictory and ruthless double dealing at almost every turn. With political and personal agendas as far reaching as vendettas and villages over the sea, trust is in short supply and these divers hapless in the wake of the deep blue.

Playwright Hilary Bell has workshopped and adapted John Bailey’s award winning book with the Black Swan cast and crew, and from all accounts has presented a reasonably even story in what could have easily been a two dimensional tale of the noble savage versus the white overlords. The push-pull effects of fealty and commercial interests can warp minds into justifying those ends that have acutely amoral means.

The amazing canvas of multi tiered staging painted by Set Designer Bruce McKinven and Lighting Designer Trent Suidgeest carved the Heath Ledger theatre into a space framed with nautical imagery and bright Broome light, starry night explosions and shadowy sly assignations. Costuming by Alicia Clements was gorgeously evocative and nostalgic, and the direction by Kate Cherry made full, free and inventive use of not just the ground, but the air to immerge the audience into this deep sea underworld.

While some of the various acting styles and accents could be construed as a little uneven, overall, this world premiere production will add a multicultural layer to the canon of West Australian history and insight.

Behind the scenes

The Addams Family

2011-03-11T06:33:00.002+08:00

Sunday, 6^th March 2011

Lunt-Fontaine Theatre, New York

While waiting in line at chilly Times Square, snaking our way to the head of the TKTS booth; I overheard one of the security attendants say to the family man ahead of me that today’s matinee would be Nathan Lane’s last performance as Gomez in The Addams Family.

Buoyed by that insider tip, we booked tickets quick smart for that afternoon’s performance and scored enviable seats so close to the front, we could see every sarcastic eyebrow raise by leads Bebe Neuwirth (Morticia) and Broadway superstar Nathan Lane.

The interior of the theatre was subtly dressed to evoke the gothic retro look of cartoonist Charles Addams’ belovedly macabre creations, with flickering lights throughout and a spooky fun feel that tickled the crowd determined to enjoy themselves.

The show itself was fun and cute, it’s bizarro weird bent built around the light plot of Wednesday Addams being all grown up enough to invite her boyfriend and his parents to meet the family – and as expected, wackiness ensues. While simple, there was a nostalgic comfort in seeing characters and stars doing what they do best – dance and sing, preen and entertain.

Being Nathan Lane’s last show, there were a couple of “tricks” played, or more, shall we say, deviations from the script – which had the rest of the cast (some more successfully than others) struggle to keep a straight face. Bebe Neuwirth was most especially amusing to watch as she tried to suppress giggles when Grandma (Jackie Hoffman) ad libbed (Morticia Addams maintains a mostly dour expression at just about everything) but she wasn’t the only one!

At the end of a very entertaining 2 ½ hours, the producers and director came on stage to thank and applaud everyone for all their hard work – they had reached the milestone of their one year anniversary of having their show on Broadway!

Apart from the headliners, other enjoyable performances were from long term Broadway alums Terence Mann and Carolee Carmello as the straight laced suburban parents of Lucas, the “normal” boyfriend of Wednesday. They were glorious in their journey from pompous and meek respectively, to enlightened and invigorated. Nothing like a little freak to turn you on!

Creepy and kooky, mysterious and spooky – if you liked it on TV, you’ll love it on Broadway.

American Idiot

2011-03-11T06:18:00.005+08:00

Saturday, 5th March 2011

St James Theatre, New York

Essentially a jukebox musical with a nihilistic bent and slacker bravura, Green Day’s Tony nominated American Idiot is a popular concert of songs reimagined into a loose and surprisingly generic storyline.

The three leads were clones in looks to Billie Joe Armstrong and his fellow bandmates in Green Day and collectively have the dream to head out of their hick town for the bright lights of the big city and become alt rock stars.

Will (Justin Guarini) is sidelined before he even gets out of the gate by an unexpected pregnancy; Tunny (Stark Sands) is patriotically brainwashed into joining the military, meeting his dream girl in hospital at the same time he looses his leg; while Everyouth Johnny (Van Hughes) lives the city mouse dream of parties, drugs and passion with his drive of being a musician fading as the months pass.

Although there were some affecting sequences and the punk techno look of the set and projections were pretty cool, overall it just seemed like one long extended video sequence – there was barely enough dialogue between each number, and if you were unfamiliar or (loser!) not a fan of Green Day’s music, you would barely care enough for any of the characters.

The vocals were routinely strong and soaring, and the all ensemble guitar encore to “Wake Me Up When September Ends” was the anthem that brought the loudest roar from the audience.

Overall, a decent 90 minute show, but hardly must-see theatre on Broadway.

Donka: A Letter to Chekhov

2011-02-16T11:26:00.014+08:00

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

His Majesty's Theatre, Perth

A folkloric blend of circus and story telling, Donka (Russian for the little bell found at the end of a fishing line - a favourite pastime of the playwright); dazzles and bewitches with a beautifully whimsical showcase of acrobats and poets, aerialists, jugglers, actors and clowns.

I wish I were more familiar with the works of Chekhov, but for one reason or another have only really had the chance to catch The Seagull, performed a couple of years ago at WAAPA. I realised then, to my surprise, that Chekhov had a rather humourous bent in his characterizations and dialogue - an aspect which had initially been overshadowed in the dramatic and somber staging of his original works by renowned director and veritable theatre god, Constatin Stanislavski.

Despite only passing familiarity with Three Sisters, Uncle Vanya and The Cherry Orchard, you can still guess at their cultural contributions in this letter to Chekhov.

Resplendent with a nostalgic glow and winking at a time of vaudeville, writer/ director/ designer and choreographer Daniele Finzi Pasca with orchestrations, sound design and additional movement by Maria Bonzanigo - has filled the stage with a dream vision of life, infused with giddy child-like joy - a playful, peopled sunny world, full of mystery, adventure, friendship and heart.

My favourite excerpts were the visual trick of musclemen performing acrobatic feats of amazement and wonder... on the floor! And circus artist David Menes spinning, twirling, reeling... as rose petals fluttering from sky to earth, sunset bathing scene to starkly highlight the remaining silhouettes. Like a totem evoking Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man (surely an inspiration in the inception of Daniel Cyr's life size wheel) it was a mesmerizing feat of imagination, and the audience was hypnotized.

Highly recommended, with the broken English spoken by the Teatro Sunil players in turns amusing and charming; and it's very likely the foreign fare box office hit of this year's Perth International Arts Festival.

Donka: A Letter to Chekhov - trailer

The Comedy of Errors

2010-08-26T15:41:00.008+08:00

Saturday, 21 August 2010

A fantastically fast paced farce that completes its journey in one act, Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors involves a far slapstickier comical structure than his other twin confusion play, Twelfth Night, figuring that if one set of twins is funny, two will breed double the trouble and twice the fun! (I jest, as one of his earlier works; this Comedy far predates that Night.)

WAAPA’s third year Acting production is a stripped down show, relying on costume and minimal props to evoke time, place and character, updated to a contemporary but still unnamed era. Jeans are paired with sword sharp foils, Laura McIntosh as frustrated wife Adriana is Michelle Pfeiffer circa Tequila Sunrise, while Claire Lovering as her supportive and feisty sister Luciana is mod shift cute in a mini dress and headband. The twin slaves both named Dromio look like something out of Hi-5.

Egeon (James Monarski) opens the play with an emphatic and marvellous exposition giving the audience a familial tale of woe within the circle of players who then return to populate the town of Ephesus. Twin (unbeknownst to each other) master and servants make for much misunderstanding and merriment, and it’s a testament to director Adam Cook as to how well the actors seemed to enjoy living, breathing and loving the words of Shakespeare, as the continuous rhyming and even more outrageous sitcom rhythms are able to be given a relatably contemporary spin instead of descending into complete and utter silliness.

While the flogging of the slaves a times seemed a bit much (AVO alert!), as usual all is explained in the finale - family is reunited, lovers allowed to declare affection (though I suspect Adriana’s Antipholus of Ephesus is a bit of a cad and Luciana has gotten the better brother out of this deal); and the Dromios find some peace at last, Michelle Lim Davidson and Aileen Huynh both stealing their scenes through wit, sympathy and a wink through the fourth wall.

A fraternal fillip of fun.

Twelfth Night

2010-08-06T17:26:00.002+08:00

Monday, 26 July 2010

Make of it what you will, but with one of the most famously rhapsodic lines from Shakespeare opening the play, “If music be the food of love, play on…” Black Swan Theatre’s latest comedic oeuvre from the bard continues the trend of updated delight from last year’s joyous Much Ado About Nothing, and washes us ashore upon the Mediterranean inspired resort location of Illyria.

The audience is delivered into a bright pastel zephyr-blue set split in the centre to not only give an alternate entry for the actors but to denote two houses, multiple locations, and of course a more obvious reminder of two halves torn asunder - twin castaways Viola and Sebastian, shipwrecked separately and mourning the death of the other.

Set designer Christine Smith has once again impressed with her intelligent use of space and suggestion, constructing a protruding boardwalk (white sand softly duned at the struts evoking the sea); a slightly unbalanced wooden stage – kingdoms constructed from ships; and later nautical allusions of large twined ropes, hanging installations that inferred trees; all set against textured backdrops of perfect sailing weather skies.

Kirsty Hillhouse as the glamourous Olivia, mourning the recent deaths of both her father and brother wallowed attractively, easily resisting Orsini’s (Kenneth Ransom) consistent advances and later thunderstruck when she falls madly in love with Viola in the guise of Orsini’s page, Cesario.

Hillhouse and Amanda Woodhams as Cesario/ Viola made a comical sight, their height difference even more pronounced as the Lady dashed about in tailored heels and espadrilles. Woodhams was utterly convincing in appearance as male page Cesario - add some wire-rimmed glasses and she’d be the spitting image of Daniel Radcliffe’s Harry Potter - and she handled her lead role well, giving us a journey through her emotions, though I did find some of her monologues a little distancing; surprising, considering they are usually intended to draw an audience closer to the character by gaining an insight into their thoughts.

Smaller players Steve Turner as minstrel Feste, Luke Hewitt as happy drunkard Sir Toby Belch, scene-stealing Ingle Knight as the Walter Mitty-ish Sir Andrew Aguecheek, and obnoxious steward Malvolio, played with relish by Geoff Kelso were even more outrageous characters; a guffawing distraction from the more straight playing romantic comedy plot.

As is usual for a comedy, misunderstandings abound, and though there is the modern query of homoeroticism in the attraction between Orsini and “Cesario” (and in this play, a Sapphic hint when Olivia discovers the boy she is in love with is actually a girl), both couples end gender appropriately matched and with happy endings all round.

A sweet voyage in Shakespearean waters.

Rock the Ballet

2010-07-13T22:12:00.006+08:00

Saturday, 10 July 2010

The masculine, testosterone fuelled and unapologetically sexy Rock the Ballet opens with a decidedly feel-good vibe (I Gotta Feelin’… Tonight’s Goin’ to be a Good Night), and then proceeds to bring the rest of the audience to the party; impressing and arousing with matchless physical displays of breathtaking leaps, jumps and tricks delivered with an incubus bravura attitude that flips between cheeky, romantic and carnal.

Choreographer and lone female dancer Adrienne Canterna-Thomas has astutely crafted an adrenaline active contemporary production that utilises strong influences from classical ballet and energised by a rock-pop soundtrack that a mainstream audience can recognise and relate to.

Multimedia projections by video designer William Cusick dominated the expansive back wall and gave the show an iPod gen atmosphere, keenly supported by lighting designer Ashley Day’s strong swathes of colour, tone and spotlight.

The stage itself was largely bare and the props minimal (save for the subversively funny ‘ladies’ in the Carmen sequence), but what more do you need when the performers give us their all with skill, sweat and swagger released by a hot hits score that allows them to seriously step up?

With enough variety to allow everyone a favourite, lead Bad Boy and dance director Rasta Thomas nonetheless stole much of the stage with a smouldering charisma that defied you to resist and a sweet back story revealed in the program (that Pretty Girl on stage? His equal in art and life, the childhood sweetheart who became his choreographer wife).

Touting itself as Ballet for the 21st Century, how else can you answer that bold assertion but with applause and encores?

Believe the hype!

Love Bites

2010-06-25T11:21:00.006+08:00

Thursday, 24 June 2010

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…

A fun date of a cabaret show, Love Bites takes you on a quirky romantic journey from the initial meet cute to the flipside towards mating, matrimony or malaisionship.

Original and (mostly) Australian but with nods to existing musical theatre standards (and one hilarious homage), the entertaining foursome of Amelia Cormack (a busty diva with opera vocals and sitcom timing); David Harris (telegenic and appealingly adaptable); Sophia Ragavelas (Venus as a pocket rocket with a Shirley Bassey belt); and James Millar (leading man postured with a comedian wink), were amorous and ardent.
Portraying love in its many coupled permutations, we glimpse vignettes into the lives of seven couples in Act 1, and in Act 2 find out what happened in the ever after.

With affecting and at times breathtakingly complex music and harmonies written and performed by Peter Rutherford on the baby grand unobtrusively tucked to the side of the stage, the musical gave it’s body, heart and hope to you and captured your brain as well with smart, funny, poignant and yes, sometimes political lyrics crafted by James Millar.

I loved A Plastic Bag, An Urban Legend and it’s equally hilarious sequel but all the chapters were gems in a myriad hue, and the performers gave them lustre with flexible, freewheeling and assured showcases of their skills in aspect.

With Nathan M Wright’s cheeky choreography and direction courtesy of Neil Gooding accommodating an adaptable set by James Browne and sensational lighting and AV backdrop design from Ross Graham and Mandylights respectively, you couldn’t help but buzz it up as you bop your way out of the theatre (don’t forget to buy a CD of the show at the box office!)

Go on; risk the hickey and head to the Playhouse Theatre for a little love bite.

Anything Goes

2010-06-21T13:28:00.005+08:00

Saturday, 12 June 2010

WAAPA’s 30th anniversary musical treat is a cheeky Cole Porter farce from the scandalous 1930s, a show where gangsters are celebrities; sexy, sassy dames are ballsy enough to chase the men and cocaine makes it as part of one of the most well-known songs in musical theatre!

While not quite topping last year’s stupendous 42nd Street (I’m still blown away just remembering the massive tap routine that opened up that show when the curtain revealed the stage); Anything Goes is a bright and breezy showcase for the many talented performers and artists both on and off the stage and a fantastic chance to enjoy a Great White Way classic right in the comfort of your home town.

Amazonian Stephanie Grigg had the vocal chops of a Broadway belter and her over the top expressions as cabaret star Reno in a role made famous by the indomintable Ethel Merman were tempered by deft comic timing and an aggressive/ assertive likeability. What a voice!

Jamie Bell was almost unnoticed as first as soft spoken effete Lord Evelyn Oakleigh, but throughout the course of the show emerged as an audience favourite, delighting with his accent-idental mispronunciations of American idioms, and gradually revealing himself to be a hilarious and fun character – more than a match for an unlikely tryst with Reno.

Billy (James Bryers) and Hope (Danae Stewart) were a sweet and earnest couple, the conventional hero and heroine around which other more interesting and outrageous personalities circled.

Moonface (Benjamin Hoetjes) a 13th rate gangster on the lam was a hoot, grabbing with gusto (and relish) any scene he could steal and almost outdone by just-wanna-have-fun bad girl Erma (Gillian Cosgriff), a big eyed dollface keen to advertise her availability to the admiring at-ten-hun! of all red-blooded sailors on board ship.

The orchestrations were delightful, delicious, de-lovely; musical director David King working seamlessly with director Crispin Taylor and choreographer Jenny Lynnd to give us a flawless musical theatre experience.

The sets and costumes were evocative of both the era and its nautical inspiration with the fantastic lower set inside the boat transforming into a multitude of bedrooms, brigs or sing it! stages, very clever indeed.

With mistaken identities and deceptions, wackiness and ultimate happy endings all round, Anything Goes is a joyous kick (no cocaine required!)

Waiting for Godot

2010-06-07T07:47:00.003+08:00

Sunday, 6 June 2010

There is something otherworldly about seeing A Great Actor on stage. The charisma, their character and yes, the sheer grace of their ability is enough to lift any text to a sigh-inducing masterclass. The performed work becomes a piece of admiration and delight…despite its difficult reputation for density and confounding profundity.

Waiting for Godot is not a play for the rookie theatregoer. Its famous one line critique of a production in which nothing happens, twice – is well deserved and there are long tracts, especially in the first act where I found myself taking rather long blinks (I confess during the annoyingly absurdist Pozzo/ Lucky section).

However, Estragon aka Gogo (Ian McKellen) and Vladimir (Roger Rees) as erstwhile Chaplinesque tramps were humming along, and any scenes where they played, pondered, laughed and ranted were sections where I had my eyes wide open; drinking in their robust comic timing, their expressive faces and forms, and most of all, the words, words, words of their creations at once pathetic and proud.

Lovable Gogo, with touches of dementia nipping at his heels (that’s an interesting take on Lucky!); and delusional Vladimir, a soul looking for some purpose in the purposelessness of his life are anchored by his fixation to this purgatory; Vladimir determined to outwait Godot, no matter how many pint sized messengers turn up delivering cyclical messages from the procrastinating title character.
(Amusing side note: spot the star usher tasked with making sure Ian McKellen’s boots left at the far front of the stage at the end of Act 1 did not go walkabout with a fan or eBay entrepreneur.)

It is part of the disappointment that Godot (spoiler alert!) never turns up, and instead the main visitations are from arrogant rube Pozzo (Matthew Kelly) and his hapless but disturbingly creepy indentured servant Lucky (Brendan O’Hea), which I guess pushes the action along somewhat and gives Gogo and Vladimir something to talk about (or run from, rescue or beat up). But I felt as if we were just putting up with their intrusions while we waited patiently (some of us with our eyes shut, partially conscious – yes, patron to the left of me, nodding off throughout the second act!) for the show to return to the far more interesting G&V two-hander interchanges.

Stephen Brimson Lewis’ set design however, was stunning - a starkly beautiful mirror world, with the sides whispering to a dilapidated theatre, a raked and broken stage, and a far wall high and grey, it’s flat a perfect backdrop for spotlights and silhouettes. A lone barren tree was the only significant entity on the stage, and yet… Act 2 opened and small leaves had bloomed upon its branches - it was as if a miracle had occurred during intermission, tiny green shoots of hope amidst the bleak terrain.

Paul Pyant’s lighting was controlled and significant. Working in orchestration with Paul Groothuis’ sound design, the start of the play was a white noise vacuum of indeterminate city/ transport resonance, it’s strip back to an almost murmuring bass having the effect of dropping audience chatter to silence as the stage became dappled and magical.

I love that about theatre. How illusions created by creative lighting can take you to another reality. Spotlights hinted at the vaudevillian past of the main characters as smiles and applause would erupt during various soft shoe shuffles and hat play swaps; and the cold stark rapture beaming like lasers through a previously nondescript door (seriously, it could almost have recalled an X-Files moment) was archly cool and terrifying.

Afterwards, my fan moment, a signature on my program from the visiting knight; a hint of sonorous Gandalf, no sign of steely Magneto, just a friendly man who also, without a doubt, is A Great Actor.

The Swimming Club

2010-03-30T23:22:00.006+08:00

Monday, 29 March 2010

With controversy swirling due to the sudden walk out and subsequent firing of star Angela Punch McGregor literally days before the Perth debut of this original play, expectations were mixed for the Monday night preview of playwright Hannie Rayson’s (Hotel Sorrento) newly commissioned work.

Director Kate Cherry bypassed the implicit questions when she spoke directly to the audience prior to the start, mainly to update us that local actor Sarah McNeill would be stepping into the role of Kate, and even more astoundingly, that McNeill was doing so with only two days notice in the part, the first preview on Saturday, 27th having been cancelled to accommodate this unanticipated development.

Whatever the turn of events, the show itself was a slice of life delight, opening with electric blue flooding the stage, as Matt Scott’s lighting design besotted the audience with the suggestion of dappled waves on an idyllic Greek ocean.
Radiant island skies and reverent starlit nights throughout gave us the passing of time, the revealing of secrets and the slightly desperate but ultimately accepting contemplation of mid life that the baby boomer generation seem almost unexpectedly to have found themselves in.

The set was sand and water and reflection, designer Christina Smith bringing the outside inside; with a bank of shallow water in the back, a sandy level beach in the centre, and a just-about-perfect-for-dipping stage length pool in the fore, naturalized elements in harmony and then mirrored in the large dark man made glass winged to the left.

But for all this beauty, it is the characters that need to resonant. An almost John Hughesian mix, with flashbacks to their carefree youth; the Swimming Club are attractive, entitled and unstoppable, a generation who have pretty much shaped the world into what we now take for granted, as evidenced by Sappho, Megan Holloway’s iGeneration emo. However, it appears angst doesn’t seem to be limited to youth (a surprising realisation, ironically noted) and yes, Rayson’s script gives us a funny and shrewd view of who these young people are, later in life.

Tina Bursill as Canadian photog Laura, was almost an Australia’s Own version of SATC’s Kim Catrall, with her dry sitcom pat delivery accompanied by a knowing look and come-hither curl in that Mona Lisa smile.
John Waters’ Dave was well rounded and likable, a witty ex hippie and muso, now working for The Man in PR.
Caroline Gillmer, a Hannie Rayson favourite, was by far the most comfortable and naturalistic with the dialogue; she could be argued to be the heart of the piece, and her survival from breast cancer is what provides the impetus for the Swimming Club to get back together, cutting through everyone’s busy lives to bring them back to Lesvos, Greece via guilt or concern (and more than a touch of subterfuge).

Sarah McNeill as Kate did an astounding job, off book and with blocking sorted, she gave her entitled archaeology professor an air of breathless energy; the girl inside the woman who still didn’t know exactly who she was, or what she wanted - and perplexed to discover that her real life seems to be so remarkably ordinary. She’s seeking the passion of mythology, of Helen of Troy, and is secretly delighted to be the object of desire for two men.

Funny and bombastic in a variety of accents and guises, Igor Sas was cartoonish to be sure, but with an assured flair. The final revelation of his ruthlessness comes almost as a shock, as you haven’t been taking him at all seriously and the sudden about face pretty much ends the party.

Apart from that almost aburpt ending, this collaboration with the Melbourne Theatre Company was an excllent evening out and has potentially given us a laudable and light new classic to add to the script of Australian theatre.

Jersey Boys

2010-03-10T15:22:00.008+08:00

Wednesday, 10 March 2010

There’s a certain symmetrical irony in realising that Jersey Boys, the musical rendition of the life and times of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, is now calling as it’s neighbourhood the Princess Theatre in Melbourne, a city that even locals acknowledge can regularly display four seasons in one day!

Checking out the matinee of this Tony award winning show on recent visit to Melbourne, I was almost swarmed by enthusiastic members of the silver fox set, keen to revisit the songs of their youth and surrounded by peers of their generation.

But good music always stands the test of time, and the creative writing team of Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice, utilising music by Bob Gaudio, one of the original singer-songwriters of the Four Seasons; with lyrics from Bob Crewe, their original producer; have given us a story that is as rich, meaty and downright Noo Yawk as any episode of the Sopranos.

Cleverly employing a frame that reflects their name, we meet Tommy DeVito (Glenn Quinn in a charismatic good fellas role) in Spring, when he’s trying to get a musical group off the ground. Tommy wants to break outta Brooklyn and there’s only three ways to do that – join the army, join the Mob, or become a star. He finds a voice he knows will be his ticket – Frankie Valli, a kid who’s unaware he’s something special - and takes him under his wing like a big brother, promising to look out for him to Frankie’s mother, in the meanwhile getting Frankie to drive the getaway car in bank heist. He’s trouble, but he’s got your back and family is family.

Tommy also reluctantly takes on previous one-hit wonder Bob Gaudio (who toured with Chuck Berry, Sam Cooke and the Everly Brothers at 15 with his 1958 cheeky hook, Short Shorts) but Bobby turns out to be just what launches the Four Seasons into the stratosphere. Stephen Mahy, all big eyed and clean cut preppy, brings about Summer for the group, inspired by Frankie Valli’s three-octave vocal range, he writes songs that break onto the charts and cements the Four Seasons as one of the sounds of the Sixties.

Sherry, Big Girls Don’t Cry, Walk Like a Man and December 1963 (Oh What a Night) become bona fide hits and the world explodes for the Four Seasons. But the more famous they become, the bigger the cracks get. Constant touring and life on the road estranges Frankie from his wife and children; Tommy spirals deeper into debt, only holding his creditors at bay with his fame and moxie; and Nick Massi, the mostly affable bass of the group begins to feel like the Ringo in this four person set, comically vocalising at various intervals about starting his own group.

Fall begins her turn and Tommy is ousted from the band for his mob dealings and tax evasion (forcibly retired to Vegas so he can be kept an eye on), and Nick also decides to leave, whether on a whim, or maybe just because he was tired of all the touring and the drama. Glaston Toft, practically a spitting image of Cameron Frye, Ferris Bueller’s best friend, plays funny and cool, a regular guy with an amazing ear for harmony who enjoyed the ride, but knew when he wanted to get off the merry-go-round.

Heading into Winter, Gareth Keegan’s baby face hardens up and psychologically ages - Frankie’s now a solo artist as Gaudio moves into writing and producing, and a revolving door of singers makes up the rest of the Four Seasons... and while the hits keep on coming (including career defining pieces like, You’re Just Too Good to be True and My Eyes Adored You), life deals Frankie a couple of big blows as he takes on Tommy’s half a million dollar debt, and his youngest daughter, Francine (Katherine Rodrigues) ends up dying of a drug overdose.

A journey into a life and times, this show had everything, and the matinee I saw was flawless, with so many high points, and despite the personal tragedies, ending on the group’s triumphant reunion as they were inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. It was fantastic to see WAAPA graduates in force with three of the leads hailing from WA’s school of the arts and a sizable contingent in the swing cast and chorus.

Scenic designer Klara Zieglerova’s simple, yet multi-purpose set was masculine and spoke to construction steel and working class roots, alleviated by large screens displaying melodramatic Liechtenstein inspired comic prints. Lighting designer Howell Binkley gave us both arenas and intimate clubs - the many places on the road that became the almost never-ending life of a touring group.

Sharp suits and sassy dresses recalled the Mad Men era as costume designer Jess Goldstein tripped your memory on what they wore, and almost invisibly pulling it all together with pace and pitch perfection was Tony Award winning director Des McAnuff, guaranteeing that the audience leaves the theatre with a smile on their face and their toes tapping amongst all that human drama.

Who loves you, pretty baby? Everyone undeniably - badabing, badaboom!

Six Characters in Search of an Author

2010-02-10T11:33:00.006+08:00

Monday, 8 February 2010

What a peculiar show. I have seen a more traditional version of this production directed by Gregory Jones of Whiplash Theatre a few years ago, so I suppose I probably had more of an inkling than most to the surreal storyline of this piece; but even so, what this new version by Rupert Goold and Ben Power of Headlong Theatre presented to the PIAF festival audience at UWA’s Octagon Theatre was almost like the original story on steroids – there were so many supplementary ideas and add-ins, not to mention a shift in presented media, that one could only think that the original Italian playwright, Luigi Pirandello, would have gaped and then applauded the audacity of this current incarnation.

Caroline McCormack (most famous as Mel Gibson’s village sweetheart and lost love in Braveheart) was the harried Producer, in charge of a docu-drama designed to be solemn and affecting but with the palpable undercurrent of audience manipulation.
Her team, made up of a cynical Editor (Robin Pearce), a Cameraman (Jake Harders), and two Actors (Sarah Belcher and Jamie Bower) appeared to be in the middle of recreating and discussing scenes for a documentary that purported to deal with the confronting topic of euthanasia for children struck by chronic diseases.

But that turns out to be red herring, and all that talk, talk, talk with the producer and financial backer The Exec (Martin Ledwith) goes awry when six characters in gothic black turn up, their faces powdered harlequin white, and with an irresistible force, they convince the Producer that their’s is a story worth telling and reliving, and they won’t take no for an answer.

The dysfunction integral to their sordid tale remains the same as the original, but the deviations begin to swirl soon enough; instead of a theatre rehearsal room from the original, we now have the new media of video; and florescent lighting and static screens give the unfolding tone of this story a J-horror creep that trickled throughout the audience in the Octagon auditorium.

Storylines are revealed to be bait-and-switch twists, and while the actors were impressive in their individual roles – Denise Gough as the Stepdaughter was fearless, and Ian McDiarmid (infamous as evil Emperor Palpatine from Star Wars) was concurrently more avuncular and yet just as chilling as you knew he had the power to be; but ultimately you never actually felt for any of the characters. Even the minor roles of the Girl (drowning in the aquarium – neat special effect), or the Boy (silent and small with Lennon shades and a blank face) were ciphers; “reality” and “time” were toyed with to such an extent that you barely had the compulsion to figure out where the play was taking you or who was distressed and suffering on the stage, and consequently whether you really cared.

It was an interesting, challenging piece of theatre, and no doubt a Festival talking point, but for me, a little unsatisfying - however I will admit, more humorous that I expected.

Side by Side by Sondheim

2010-02-08T10:25:00.005+08:00

Thursday, 4 February 2010

The Studio at the Subiaco Arts Centre was dressed to be timelessly chic and sophisticated in drop-dead black, lit apparently by the chandelier haloing light over Tim Cunniffe as he sat at one of two baby grand pianos that dominated the stage.

Invited to sit in the style of an intimate cabaret revue, the audience was dazzled over the span of the show, treated to a sample celebration of the earlier works of one of the greatest composers and lyricists of modern musical theatre, Stephen Sondheim.

The show opened with the crowd-pleasing “Comedy Tonight” from A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, a cheeky farce of mistaken identities and noises-off bawdiness set in ancient Rome.

Director and designer Gregory Jones has adopted Wintour vogue for his latest vision and decreed black to be the new black, and the easy fashion to stick mainly to this shade (save for it’s opposite on the spectrum and the occasional colour flashes from boas, Christmas lights and tutus(!), made you feel impossibly stylish and practically New York-ian.

Ross Bryant took a little time to settle into his role as Narrator, but was useful in providing those new to Sondheim with a little history on the man, his music, and just what was happening within the historical landscape of the mid to late 20th Century when these productions were first launching along the great White Way.

The performers were individually immensely watchable and as an ensemble well suited. Simon Loughton was handsome and assured, an appealing leading man to voice Sondheim’s lassair faire tenors.
Tim How switched capably between being the Everyman (hilarious in “The Little Things You Do Together” with Sherry-Anne Hayes) to being the clown.

Casey Edwards appeared to be channelling musical theatre goddess Carolyn O’Connor: pixie cut – check, arch eyebrows and knowing smile – check, hella wow voice – a definite check.
Sherry-Anne Hayes was the goofy cute comedienne, her face wide-eyed and appealing (think Amy Adams in Enchanted), punched with the screwball comedic delivery of Debra Messing circa Will & Grace.
Gillian Binks completed the quintet as the all rounder, excelling in droll delivery (You Must Meet My Wife) to melancholic nostalgia (Send in the Clowns) and just for good measure, rapid-fire panicked patter (Getting Married Today).

With so much to enjoy, it was an evening of so much more than just a little night music from a very polished company.

The Velveteen Rabbit

2010-01-30T15:47:00.003+08:00

Saturday, 30 January 2010

Walking into Fremantle’s Spare Parts Puppet Theatre, I realised with a wonder that I have never seen any shows here before. Surprising, considering puppetry is one of the earliest forms of story telling, and Perth had not too long ago hosted the 20th UNIMA (Union Internationale de la Marionnette) Congress & World Puppetry Festival.

The lobby and theatre was filled with chatty tykes and their corralling parents and/or grandparents, and the small stride shuffle eventually brought the audience full into the reasonably sized theatre facing a dark sectionally blocked stage.

Despite the large, human-sized puppets that had awed us earlier on display in the lobby, when the play opened (various panels were revealed and redressed throughout to progress the story), you realised that on the whole, puppets are small, and as this tale was particularly dealing with toys, the producers had chosen to give us proportionate as opposed to exaggerated.

SPPT’s retelling of Margery Williams’ beloved tale had a distinctly contemporary, casual feel as the ubiquitous Damon Lockwood and fellow actor Ben Russell, expressively and with comedy duo finesse voiced two introductory characters (an action figure and a night light glow worm, not mentioned in the book) who told of Christmas, the threat of new toys displacing them and ultimately, questioning each other on what it means to be Real.

The Velveteen Rabbit (voiced by Michelle Robin Anderson) a cuddly soft toy with a shortened base to replace his back legs and an inquisitive innocence, was a Christmas present delightfully realised, and had there been versions of him on sale as part of the theatre merchandise, I would have no doubt that just about every parent would have been badgered incessantly to please, please please! get one.

The narrative played around with sections of the plot and dialogue (the original story looks to be set around the turn of the 20th century, when the threat of scarlet fever was much more prevalent) but overall, its embellishments were more for humour and characterisation. I was reminded of Pixar’s Toy Story on a number of occasions, which no doubt owes a debt to some of this story’s themes.

With a running time of under an hour (before there would be too much seat squirming by those with a short attention span) it nonetheless captivated its chosen audience and was a cute piece of fun theatre for the grown ups too.

An oft-spoken child’s wish brought to life.

The Sapphires

2010-01-30T15:46:00.005+08:00

Saturday, 25 January 2010

Having been delayed from it’s October 2009 premiere to accommodate a more collaborative move and be part of the 2010 line-up of the Perth International Arts Festival, I was expecting big things from Company B Belvoir’s The Sapphires, an amalgam retelling of an indigenous forgotten girl group from the 1960s.

I will say right of the bat that I was disappointed with the preview I attended. While an avuncular introduction by director Wesley Enoch was at first charming, it was soon shaped as an apology as he detailed delays that the production had come up against and then stated that this performance was going to have to accommodate a few stops and starts (for safety purposes) and that for all intents and purposes it was going to be treated as a final dress rehearsal.

The director even went so far as to jokingly call the audience cheap for having chosen to attend a preview. Oh really?

Live theatre is fraught with the unexpected, and while the stage, setting and music were something to sing about, the transitions were at times clunky and laboured and there were more than a few delays while the leading ladies zipped through the multitudes of quick changes the script called for.

Though the fourth wall was broken by occasional asides from a miked Enoch, I will admit that at times the show could really hit it’s stride. Jimi Bani was infectious and charismatic as Cynthia’s (Casey Donovan) erstwhile lover-on-the-run and he did a mean impression of James Brown that had the audience ready to get on up! And there was no doubting the singing talent on offer with Christina Anu and Casey Donovan deliciously deadly and diva ready.

In the end, despite all the trails and tribulations The Sapphires impressed, and the show will probably go on to be the hot ticket at this year’s festival. It’s just a pity that it decided to be fashionably late about it.

You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown

2010-01-22T10:45:00.007+08:00

Thursday, 21 January 2010

A step back into an innocent, more nostalgic time, You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown, is a curious musical - made up of vignettes reminiscent of the classic newspaper comic which American baby boomers grew up with, and populated by actors who are probably more familiar with Ginger Meggs, our own popular larrikin version, rather that this neurotic lovable loser.

Mesh Theatre has done their best with the slight premise, and the obvious lack of plot, to instead showcase some of the more familiar Peanuts characters in this production. The result is an appealing kick that could almost serve as an alternative to the high gloss of kid-specific juggernauts The Wiggles, or more comparatively, Hi-5.

When this comic strip by Charles M Schulz first appeared over 50 years ago, the general ages of the children (postulated to be around 5 - 6 years old) was an irony to the more mature middle school dialogue they were spouting; but in 2010 I wouldn’t say those concepts have been fast forwarded, but rather superceded – with the iGeneration now more immersed than ever in a screen life of mobiles, internet and video, this show emerges as a charmer; happiness is…chasing butterflies and rabbits with your pet dog, playing a toy piano with the seriousness of a maestro, making up kissing/ advice booths – this is a world of imagination and play, where adults sound muffled and don’t make any sense, everything and everyone is usually bigger than you, and your pet is both an ace flyer and a high kicking singing sensation.

Standouts in the uniformly well voiced cast were Amberly Cull as Charlie’s little sister Sally, button cute with a Betty Boop voice to match, bringing winsome determination and joy to “My New Philosophy”; and Bri Williams as the indefatigable Snoopy, fearless and free, living the perennial childhood that an entitled pet has the luxury to know nothing else of. Her “Suppertime” dance number was a crowd roaring showstopper, and her appealing characterization and top-of-doghouse musings were exactly how you’d expect Snoopy to think and sound like.

A snack tasty skip down memory lane.

An Evening with David Sedaris

2010-01-20T15:51:00.008+08:00

Tuesday, 19 January 2010

A friend had a spare ticket to what turned out to be a packed house at His Majesty’s Theatre, as the literati of Perth - with gleaming smart spectacles and an air of blameless sophistication - welcomed best-selling author David Sedaris to the Wild West.

The three-time Grammy Award nominee, probably best known for his books, “Me Talk Pretty One Day”, which had won the author the 2001 Thurber Prize for American Humour; and “Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim” of which the audio book read by Sedaris had been nominated for Best Spoken Word album in 2004; was touring Australia’s far flung shores as part of a general itinerary that had included one of his favourite countries, Japan.

He had wryly observed that getting on a plane to fly over 22 hours to a destination should reveal the traveller to another, almost otherworldly locale, like possibly, Mercury, but that Australia in general seemed to be a mixture of the surreal and familiar, America lite as it were.

Well lived and well travelled, the evening opened up on stage with an introduction in German by his Australian manager (!) which was soon translated to be along the lines of “We have David Sedaris and will trade him for all your flamboyant homosexuals”; a rather humorous and unconventional way to start a show!

But I guess this was more of a book reading event which just happened to be showcased at the theatre. It was a testament to the author’s popularity, and while he decries being described as a performer, time spent on National Public Radio in the 1990s and numerous appearances on the talk show circuit have honed his voice to be to an expressive reflection of his interior monologue and autobiographical works.

While he seemed initially dwarfed on stage by a background of large red curtains and a lectern he admitted he happily hid behind, his voice soon overtook the physical and the nuance, sly humour, sarcasm and deft timing brought his essays, elaborations and allegories to life.

A story about a gated forest was politely received, but given more ironic resonance when he commented that our airport security measures appear to be from the 1970s - Homeland Security in the States is obviously becoming a bane to not only visitors but citizens alike; however his droll and entertaining observational humour (with just a touch of verklempt) skewed well with the audience, well primed in the foyer earlier as Sedaris patiently signed copies of his books and CDs.

Some of the funniest tales of course, involved his tourist eye view of Australia, it’s people, animals and language; and the ‘kook’ aburra featured as a star attraction, sporting the “buzz cut of a high school gym teacher”, a slightly feared creature lashed in browns from “beige to walnut”.

He recounted that along with his sister Amy (now well known from her cult comedy series, Strangers with Candy) they had sung the classic Australian nursery rhyme “Kookaburra (sits in the old gumtree)” practically non-stop one night, almost driving their not-quite-fearsome, underwear relaxing father to distraction. How startling to hear this sing-song come out with an American accent! I confess I sang it happily on the way home.

An amusing evening unexpected, enjoyed and well spent.

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

2009-12-07T13:34:00.006+08:00

Friday, 4 December 2009

Roleystone Theatre seem determined to work their way through musical theatre legend Stephen Sondheim’s eclectic catalogue, having staged Assassins earlier this year and scheduling Into the Woods for 2010. But I’ll wager none will be as bloody at this production of Sweeney Todd, an inspired penny dreadful ‘grusical’ which parlays the Victorian urban legend of a fiendish barber who slices the throats of his hapless customers, and his lovelorn but even more insidiously guilty accomplice, Mrs Lovett (a whole creature cook no doubt) who proceeds to mince all that perfectly good meat into tasty pies whetting the appetite of the London working class. Masterchef with a cannibalistic twist!

Director Stephen Carr has presented a rich musical theatre experience, seeking to satisfy the palette of any Sondheim devotee, with able support from Musical Director Matt Austin who tackles the complex score replete with counterpoint and angular harmonies with reasonable assurance.

The strong introduction by the Ensemble singing The Ballad of Sweeney Todd was a Greek Chorus on fire, and their interludes pushed along the plot and background details of this revenge tale; their vocal collective a testament to the sheer hard work and talent on stage. The scene at the Bedlam Mental Institution was particularly well staged; the silhouetted starkness cinematic and clever, and more than a little disquieting when the lunatics began to break through their paper walls.

Inhabiting the title role was Scott Burns, his sturdy vocalizations overlaid with surly sarcasm, as he carried the weight of 15 years of hard labour throughout his demeanor, looking through everyone with cynical dead eyes and pitch black humour. Lindsay McNab as Mrs Lovett rendered her role with a nice, even voice, but at times her complex patter was lost in the speed of the score. Timothy How, as Tobias Ragg, an orphan assistant to popinjay rival barber Pirelli ( Manuao TeAotonga) seemed to be channeling early Jerry Lewis with his man-child simpleton shtick; complete with pigeon-toed gait, heightened squeal of a speaking voice (I half expected him to utter Lewis’ signature “Hey, Lai-dy!”) and half-wit determinism.

Delivering his lines with handsome projection was Paul Treasure as Judge Turpin (Boo! Hiss!), whose considerable physical stature incited genuine loathing for his character as he sang of the naked lust for his ward Johanna, the child of the woman he raped after incarcerating her husband (Benjamin Barker now returned as Sweeney Todd) on a trumped up charge. The images of the Judge flagellating his corpulent bulk, marking his back to somehow lessen his inward depravity were saliently disturbing.

The pacing for the production was a slight quibble; the last third of the First Act became unrepentant save for the small bird of a love story between Johanna (Cassie Skinner) and Anthony Hope (Owen Measday). And the set design incorporated a three tiered sectioning of the whole performance area which though reasonably innovative for a community theatre production, was at times problematic. While the middle stage was well utilized, and entries and walk ways through the audience broke the fourth wall for a this-is-live-theatre! effect; the far back raised stage seemed at times distant and cramped, and the few songs presented from this quarter were at risk of being drowned by the musicians housed right behind the flat.

Overall, however, a fine interpretation of this bloody difficult musical.

Girl of the Golden West

2009-10-30T09:59:00.009+08:00

29 October 2009

Hold on to your horses! The WA Opera has brought to life Puccini’s La Fancuilla del West as a spaghetti western by way of John Ford’s searingly stark black and white palette, the opening an astounding vision of forced perspective and cinemascope projection (complete with film spliced static and the requisite smoke); and the titles literally coming towards you as if you were at the movies.

Impressed by the New World, Puccini wrote this rather specific opera to be set in the Californian Gold rush era, seeking to modernise his technique; however the resulting score has such strong orchestrations that it has been debated that singers are almost put to the test in a competition to see whether they can out volume the symphony.

The music is uncompromisingly and unabashedly melodramatic, telling a tale of a rough and ready mining camp, populated by men with gold fever in their veins but the wistful hearts of a clan of Lost Boys far from the comforts of home.

The intrinsically simple tale of boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy wins girl back is made complex by the girl being a gun-toting den mother/ sister/ teacher/ friend to this frontier mining camp; the hero being two faced and with conflicting agendas; and a black hat sheriff whose obsession for the titular heroine turns to menace when she rejects him.

The strikingly innovative set design by Michael Scott-Mitchell was post modern clever, the scored lines of an endless bar accentuated in Act 1 (taking place in the expansive Polka Saloon); then transformed into intimacy in Act 2 as we (and the bandit hero) ventured into the simple cabin of tough but naive Minnie; we are then transported to the unforgiving isolation of the woods in Act 3, about to bear witness to a lynching... All scenes were lit with dazzling chiaroscurophic effect by Philip Lethlean.

The costumes by designer Zoë Atkinson seemed to take their inspiration from John Ford’s films also – black, white and grey were outfitted to the cast; lending a pre-Oz, still-in-Kansas vision to the majority of the male chorus and soloists. It left the audience alert to colour...the bright red feather in minstrel Jack Wallace’s (Sitiveni Talei) hat, was a herald to the Technicolour vision of Minnie (Anke Höppner) when she appeared - aglow in a halo of honeyed curls, her dress like sunlight with bright yellows and oranges - a beacon of femininity in the midst of male gunmetal ambition.

However, the most startling and unexpected aspect of this production was the added insight and gasp-worthy glory brought about by video designer Scott Otto Anderson and video producer Mic Gruchy, whose projected art installations throughout the opera gave the piece such an excitement and contemporary feel that you couldn’t ignore that this production as a whole would have suffered for their lack.

From the family portraits of loved ones left at home, to the almost three-dimensional growing red rose of passion which lovers Minnie and Dick Johnson (Dario Volonté) seem to almost fall into, this is the first time I have seen projections used to such a degree in what is traditionally a theatrical piece – bravo to the WA Opera for taking a chance on presenting this imaginative concept!

Overall, the opera was spectacular, but time heavy, not overblown but possibly a little overdrawn. But for once Puccini gave us a happy ending, and Minnie manages to save her man by appealing to the hearts of the miners that she has loved and cared for in their isolating ambition to cultivate wealth. The lovers literally walk off into the sunset, their silhouettes a cinematic coda.

The Talented Mr Ripley

2009-09-26T17:28:00.007+08:00

Friday, 25 September 2009

Would you be able to recognize a sociopath? The easy bonhomie charm, the sly reverse psychology opportunism, the wanton lack of empathy?

It seems no one can quite disbelieve the talented Mr Ripley, as he cunningly ingratiates himself into the rarefied sphere of moneyed New York, purloining a passage and stipend for Europe from the self absorbed parents of a beholden playboy.

Ripley plays submissive, bumbling, the poor school chum of lesser worth; but the audience knows better as he habitually unleashes his full scorn and ego for us to view, revelling in his superiority, terrifying in his justification.

Izaak Lim was paradoxically charismatic as the titular grifter with a homicidal edge who will stop at nothing to protect his lifestyle and his lies.

Scenes and dialogue dovetailed throughout and the set was a dreamy muslin affording shadows, half seen flashbacks fulfilling snippets of back story (the reason to leave New York, the confrontations with Aunt Dottie) and the smoothness of the transitions pulled through the sometimes disparate jigsaw narrative. If you’re familiar with the 1999 Anthony Minghella film starring a surfeit of Hollywood stars, you’ll be better served to allay the slight confusions.

Apart from the two leads of Tom Ripley and Rickie Greenleaf (Matthew Longman), the rest of the characters were doubled (or even tripled) amongst the remaining cast, which gave them a chance to showcase their range.

I was most impressed by Rod Worth playing two such dissimilar roles and utilizing shifting vocals, stance and persona to such an extent that I had to almost check the program to be sure that it was the same actor.

Marcia King as both matriarch Emily Greenleaf, resigned to her cancer, and then alternatively Tom’s bitter Aunt Dottie was innately compelling and imbued all her scenes with pitch perfect characterizations and gravitas.

So do we care about unsympathetic anti-hero Tom Ripley, who has no conscience and boasts no equal? Yes, if only to be aware enough to avoid his snake eyed thrall.

An interesting theatrical study in psychopathic malaise.

Iolanthe

2009-09-21T11:15:00.008+08:00

Sunday, 20 September 2009

Introducing a lush and sparkling score by Arthur Sullivan tripping hither into inspirations from Wagner’s Ring Cycle and Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, Iolanthe is a fanciful fairy dust concoction which cleverly pokes fun at the House of Lords, the practice of law and the British Government of the day.

Containing some of WS Gilbert’s cleverest and most slyly satirical lyrics, this staging by the Gilbert & Sullivan Society of WA was a pure delight to behold and fun from start to finish.

Strephon, a golden voiced and handsome Arcadian shepherd (cherubically cheeky Chris D. Lewis) is in love with a ward of the court, Phyllis (Katya Webb, purloining her brunette beauty from a recent turn in Bizet’s tragedy Pearlfishers into this comely comedy). It seems however, that the entire House of Lords is similarly smitten with the winsome shepherdess, and the Lord Chancellor (an astonishingly spry Conrad Crisafulli in a role perfectly matched to his talents) would rather his ward choose a husband with some blue blood aristocratic standing.

But Strephon is no ordinary shepherd, his mother is the immortal fairy Iolanthe, recently welcomed back to the fairy court at the pleading of her fellow fey. Banished 25 years earlier for having the temerity to marry a mortal, she looks to be a girl of 17 and her grown son is a fairy from the waist up and mortal from the waist down (ahh, the number of panto nudge-nudge-winks when this was recited…!)

Phyllis and the House of Lords catch sight of Strephon confiding in his youthful mother about the Lord Chancellor’s refusal to allow Phyllis to marry him, and jump to entirely the wrong conclusions. Phyllis angrily rejects his explanation, and hurt, announces she’ll marry one of the Lords instead (“…and I don’t care which!”) The fairies try to help but end up being patronized by the Lords who think they are a bunch of silly schoolgirls. Offended, the Fairy Queen casts a spell making Strephon a Member of Parliament with the influence to pass any bill he chooses.

Nevertheless, Strephon still pines for Phyllis; she’s frustrated as she doesn’t want to marry a Peer (Strephon seems to be a damn good kisser, I can’t fault her reasoning); the Peers are unhappy at being shown up as generally useless; and in the midst of all this the fairies realize that they have all fallen in love with the mortals and stand to suffer a death sentence at the wand of their very own queen!

But the reveal that Strephon is half fairy (nudge-nudge-wink!) and also the son of the Lord Chancellor proceeds to the inevitable happy conclusion as fairy law is tweaked to accommodate a round of marriages (the Queen herself is rescued from the new decree by Royal Guard Private Willis who magically sprouts a pair of the cutest red wings to match his uniform). Soon they may, off and away, to all live harmoniously ever after.

The Playhouse accommodated a beautiful set resplendent with copper tones and soft greens, and suggestive but recognizable backgrounds to transport the audience from country glades to Westminster streets, elegantly supported by Ian Boase’s soft washed lighting and gorgeous costuming by Penny Walker.

The musical direction by Daniel Masmanian was joyous and appealing, and director John Milson retained the heart of Gilbert & Sullivan but still made the piece enjoyable and entertaining for a 21st century audience.

To wit, one of G&S's prettiest and most popular operettas.

Equus

2009-09-15T14:36:00.005+08:00

Saturday, 12 September 2009

With little warning and no announcement, Equus simply begins; a keenly muscled half clothed figure suddenly there - centre stage, his reflection mirrored in Shaun Gurton’s glass box set design.

Putting on exaggerated boots, their heels oversized hooves, he attempts to stand, stumbling repeatedly - coltish, yet already hinting at the strength, power and beauty that this full grown horse will be ultimately admired for.

Dr Martin Dysart (William McInnes) a dissatisfied and somewhat disillusioned institutional psychiatrist is cajoled into taking the case of Alan Strang (Kahn Cittenden) as a favour to the attractive local magistrate. We are his spectator audience, glimpsing our own impression briefly under house lights, invited to view his profile of the subject - a 17 year old boy who has blinded six horses with a metal spike. So begins a suspenseful thriller by Amadeus playwright Sir Peter Shaffer, as Dysart discovers not just the motive but his own increasing fascination with the mind and passion of Alan Strang.

McInnes, solid and conventionally handsome, has an amicable charisma which grows to fill the stage and beyond, his reassuring presence warming the audience immediately to his point of view, although a later confessional divulges some disturbing dream image butchery. He subtly reveals Dysart’s questing thoughts on aspects of “normalcy” versus the imagination of the primal, and appears reflectively jealous of Strang’s idolatry fervour.

In a role recently popularized on the West End and Broadway by Harry Potter’s Daniel Radcliffe, Chittenden suffers in comparison to his more stage experienced co-stars. Whilst McInnes can clearly be heard throughout the theatre, his projection skills vocally apparent; Chittenden’s current exposure mainly to television and film has resulted in his voice barely reaching half way to the stalls. His accent modulated quickly back to basic Australian, despite his character’s suburban south UK middleclass aspect. He seemed to fare better in his taped interview, so the actor may have simply been overwhelmed by the preview night, and the power and madness of Alan Strang could yet have the opportunity to grow as the season develops.

Vivienne Garrett as Alan’s mother was barely recognizable from her program shot, but eminently watchable, especially in her scenes with McInnes’ Dysart; her character revealing conversationally the religious element to her son’s fixation on horses, hinting at evangelical zeal and current class discontent.

The infamous nudity in Act 2 representing original sin is less shocking that when the play debuted in 1973, but still confronting, and it facilitates a breakthrough towards truth and empathy. Bravo to Chittenden and Alexandra Fisher for making us feel as if there was no one else in the room…but for the collective intake of breath of 700 audience members that night.

Director Melissa Cantwell has utilized choreographer Gavin Webber for many of the flashback scenes and the resulting movement from the chorus/ horses is sensual, full bodied and exciting, interplayed with sound designer Kingsley Reeve’s evocative aural scapes and compositions. They reverberate support for personal memories and observations, and segued through fascinating dialogue, so laden with nuggets of symbolism as to be a feast for any armchair psychiatrist.

Costumes also by set designer Gurton were nondescriptly early 70s era (though the nurse’s wimple headdress was another wink at the religious themes layered within), but a deliberate supernatural construct was the equine wire godhead that elevated and homogenized the human head wearing it.

As Dysart concludes, there is no place for Alan Strang in humanity; the devout violence that has been awaken by carnal desires incite revulsion and horror, but my god, what a play, a magnificent insight into the sacred and the profane.

Much Ado about Nothing

2009-08-31T09:35:00.004+08:00

Tuesday, 25 August 2009

As an arbor of autumnal leaves freckle across its heaven, Black Swan State Theatre’s production of Much Ado about Nothing opens with a languid sigh; the fair citizens of Messina ambling onto the sun dappled stage, all reactions slowed to remind the audience of the unhurried pleasure of a summer’s day…despite Perth’s chilly night!

Soon though, the soldiers from a distant war return and the action picks apace as robust testosterone zings into the mostly estrogen air of this idyllic village town, and Cupid’s arrow finds its mark when handsome Claudio (Stuart Halusz) is felled by the sweet smile of Hero (Shubhadra Young), daughter and heir to their avuncular host Leonato (Michael Loney, scenery chewing his way through the Shakespearean text with relish).

Leonato welcomes back Don Pedro and his men and invites them to stay, relax, and be entertained; a celebration of having returned safely. The fair maidens of Messina quickly choose a favourite, but lively and fearless Beatrice, a defiant bachelorette, is nonplussed about all the matchy matchiness and instead verbally jousts with fellow nemesis snark Benedick, both almost unaware just how much fun they obtain in each other’s company with their ongoing competition of wordy one-upmanship.

Kirsty Hillhouse was an engaging Beatrice, her eloquent tone and charming manner disguising some sharp bon mots, softened somewhat by a smart twinkle of familial love in her eye. Benedick sported Kenneth Ransom’s natural American accent which while initially a novelty every time he spoke, was easily accepted, the original play notes mentioning that the soldiers are drawn from many countries. His lanky frame was well suited to some slapstick scenes and the love-hate chemistry between his character and Beatrice was delicious.

In all this honey there comes a fly, and a dour trio of party poopers led by Austin Castiglione as illegitimate pretender to the throne Don John, plots to humiliate regal Don Pedro (Steve Turner) who has recently courted Hero on behalf of Claudio. Little lies and intimations on the nature of Hero’s chastity lead to the first act finale of the worst wedding day scenario for a bride ever.

But this is a comedy, and of-many-roles Luke Hewitt in his alternate guise of Friar Francis shrewdly advises Hero to play possum and her family to likewise shroud themselves in mourning as he convinces them that news of her death will flush out the real culprits of this conspiracy.

It turns out that he’s right, as boastful Borachio (Tim Solly) with the sneering Conrade (Brendan Ewing) have drunk enough alcohol to reach the level of stupidity that allows them to not only spill their entire plot with Don John, naming names and pronouncing payment terms; but to be heard and captured by the largely ineffectual Messina night watch.

Dogberry (Geoff Kelso with more than a touch of Dad’s Army) and his Boy Scout lieutenant Verges (Brendan Hanson) remarkably manage to interrogate two battle hardened soldiers and handle the truth well enough to prove Hero’s innocence.

Claudio, remorseful and prepared for his punishment of a life married to Hero’s “cousin” is instead given back the girl of his dreams, but the audience has already moved onto the much more vibrant romance of Benedick and Beatrice, who really have a much more stable start to their union having dispensed with civility upon a previous meeting and told each other to their faces all their flaws and faults upfront!

Behind the scenes kudos to director Kate Cherry, set and costume designer Christina Smith, and lighting designer David Murray for setting the stage for a sparkling and witty Shakespearean night out.

Lord of the Flies

2009-06-29T10:20:00.006+08:00

Saturday, 27 June 2009

Lord of the Flies is a Dangerous Book about Boys. Written by Briton William Golding in the shadow of the atomic bomb, the novel is rich with onomatopoeic imagery (the roar and then plop used to describe a tangled parachute is a wonder) and allusions to Milton’s Paradise Lost and Ballantyne’s Coral Island festoon the narrative with allegorical layers to be turned over and over.

Director Gregory Jones having staged directly from the text in previous productions, challenged himself with Nigel Williams’ adaptation, a translation that was first performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company at Stratford-upon-Avon in 1995.

The island is only imagined, as the audience is greeted by a blackboard ready set - tables and high stools in a typical classroom and boys in uniforms at attention. An overlay soundtrack of rhythm that sounds like a jump cut heartbeat is ominous, and it is not a plane crash that scars an island paradise and leaves these boys isolated, but a bomb in civilization itself separating children from adults.

The numerous lost boys of Littluns are reduced to one - Perceval (Thomas James), who despite his height did make you think he could actually be aged six as related in the original. Daniel Garrett as initially reluctant leader Ralph, impressively managed to stand on his head, which I thought was hilarious as his character is mentioned doing this very act numerous times in the first chapter – giving blood rushing physicality to the disorientation of a world turned upside down.

Nick Maclaine portrayed Jack as boldly belligerent, a school prefect confident in his right to rule and egged on from mere leader to despotic tyrant by the mysterious-boy-of-no-particular-school, Roger (Nicholas Hiatt) a character only referred to in the novel quite late in the piece, but who instills terror in all who see him painted savage.

Simon (Daniel Klemens), reflective and unpopular as prophets are apt to be, disappears in his epileptic fit and emerges with not just the truth about the Beast from the Air but the realization that society is fragmenting, so of course as harbinger he is killed in a disturbing sequence of sound and fury. Piggy (Izaak Lim) is left as a lone nagging voice of civilization, adamant on the importance of the conch, neurotic with his “ass-mar” and rightly fearful for his life.

Chalked chapters written across the back wall beneath a poster of the Queen marked the passage of time, but the compact pacing never lagged despite its Educational Edition repute, and this adventure into the heart of man’s darkness played out to an intense finale of almost unbearable apprehension…then suddenly, a grownup steps into the room.

Having read this recently, I have wondered about this ending - how do you process the experience of being hunted or a hunter? At 12, how does this ugly reality shape you and your future?

Are you forever tainted, or will you put the incidents down to childish games and a series of unfortunate accidents vaguely remembered in the far distant adult future?

I guess it makes you think - despite the promise of each new generation, could we have avoided the way the world is now? For it may not be just the wake of all that has come before, but as illuminated in this work, there is the uncomfortable knowledge within each of us of an innate turmoil between order and anarchy.

42nd Street

2009-06-22T10:23:00.008+08:00

Saturday, 20 June 2009

Brash, tuneful and with the gosh-darn-it-let’s-put-on-a-show! attitude of a Mickey Rooney & Judy Garland baby Broadway musical; 42nd Street effervescently erupts right from it’s opening tap number.

It is truly a sight to behold 40+ dancers on stage tapping it out with style, finesse and frankly nostalgic charm – yup, they don’t do many shows like this anymore.

Modern audiences have little opportunity to experience the speed, rhythm and click-stamp-slide of tap; there have been a few novelty forays by Australia’s Own Dein Perry (Tapdogs, Bootmen) or maybe the syncopated drive of hiphop influenced Stomp the Yard; but all in all we’re mostly reduced to the occasional audition for TV dance mecca, So You Think You Can Dance.

This made 42nd Street an undeniable treat, and the closing night audience was there every uncynical step of the way, following the classic story of a talented understudy who gets her chance to be the next star on Broadway.

Kewpie doll faced naïf Peggy Sawyer (Meghan O’Shea) makes an impression on just about everyone she meets, (or blunders into!) and O’Shea was an appealing ingénue, with winsome contrariness and a big enough heart to hold the show within the show together. Tobias Madden as cocky tenor Billy Lawler was light on his toes and had a ready smile, but I felt like he spent most of the first act TALKING IN CAPITALS and punctuating the point.

Anthony Pepe as dance director Andy Lee was notable in his Gene Kelly inspired look and how-about-this-step? skills; and the comedy team of Maggie Jones (Kira Morsley) and Bert Barry (Drew Weston) twigged you to the fast paced 1930s banter of screwball comedic relief.

The person that most impressed though was Naomi Livingstone as Broadway diva Dorothy Brock, comfortable portraying her character’s ballooning ego and “I’m a star!” attitude, but able to elicit the audience’s sympathy over the love she left behind and a humble realization and confession that bright-eyed Peggy really is the best Pretty Lady for the role.

Jenny Lynnd dazzled the audience with her choreography, and with the amount of dance numbers on stage you can probably bet that the chorus members are most likely the fittest hoofers in town. I loved the slick and ultimately heartfelt musical ballet in the second act, reminiscent of the Broadway Melody interlude in the similar era set movie musical “Singing in the Rain”. Cyd Charisse’s green dress and looks were even homaged with a leggy brunette.

Set designer Nathan Weyers and his team gave us a tantalizing peak into the Great White Way with drop scapes proclaiming a constellation of New York’s myriad theatres, and the set change and side arch revolves as the Pretty Lady production travels to Philly was one of the best cast and crew transitions I’ve seen in an Australian show.

I has a fantastic time listening to this lullaby of Broadway.

Little Shop of Horrors

2009-06-12T15:05:00.007+08:00

Thursday, 11 June 2009

Little Shop of Horrors is seriously, one of my favourite musicals. Written and scored by eventual powerhouse Disney hit makers Alan Menken and Howard Ashman (Little Mermaid, Aladdin and Best Picture Oscar nom Beauty and the Beast), Little Shop was originally adapted from a B-grade cult movie classic from the 1960s which had in a small masochistic role a lean actor with a feral smile named Jack Nicholson,…yes, that Jack.

The story of a boy, the girl of his dreams, and a carnivorous plant that wants to take over the world, inspired Menken and Ashman to produce some of the catchiest harmonies and endearing characters in modern musical theatre. With ironic lyrics and a twisted view of early 60s wish fulfilment consumer culture, these rose-coloured glasses nevertheless had sightlines to the real world harsh realities of downtown Skid Row; but the music is so amazing and clever, it never gets you down, though the content upon later reflection is rather disturbing…

This staging by Shine Studios was faithful to the Off Broadway production, and while I’ll admit a fondness for the original material, I had actually first fallen in love with a rerun of the 1986 movie musical directed by Frank Oz. The film had tweaked the theatrical ending, introduced a new song (that was subsequently nominated for an Oscar) and reinstated the masochistic character that had been in the sourced 1960 film but absent from the stage musical. Bill Murray took an enjoyably painful turn in the dentist chair that time around.

I haven’t seen that many productions at Murdoch University’s Nexus Theatre, but it afforded a decent sized space for the show, with the whole stage and some of the high tower catwalks being utilized by the cast.

The music buoyed the show along, but there were a few dead spots in between some scene changes or turns of dialogue where transitions could have been a little tighter.

I normally love seeing dancers in a show, but unfortunately in this instance I found the many choreographed numbers a little distracting to the central leads, especially during some of the more intimate or one on one songs – I could barely see Mushnik & Son for the crowd on stage!

Cameron Prestel was almost a little too clear skinned and confident to play orphaned loser Seymour Krelborn, but Shinead Gegas was great as bruised yet blossoming Audrey, her face revealing her sweet heart beneath the overdressed insecurity.

Can I say how much I loved Audrey II? The design and construction of these progressively larger and frighteningly impressive puppets was a wow factor every time you saw the next one – kudos to Kristy Messina, Grant James and Chris Messina.

I thought the program was also very well put together, themed as a FBI file complete with paper clips holding together notes, photos and character inspired business cards “Orin Scrivello DDS – there’s always time for oral hygiene”– it even had coffee mug stains and a final bloody page decrying “Don’t Feed the Plants!”. I wish more programs were this imaginative!

Go green for a melody rich fun night out.

Adam Hills - Inflatable

2009-05-29T16:03:00.003+08:00

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

2009-05-18T14:21:00.007+08:00

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

2009-05-04T09:24:00.005+08:00

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

2009-05-04T09:23:00.012+08:00

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

2009-05-01T16:33:00.011+08:00

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.

Mozart's Requiem

2009-04-16T12:51:00.010+08:00

Wednesday, 8 April 2009

Religion has sneakily brought me back to church - by offering itself as an alternative venue for the performing arts. Last Christmas it was Handel's Messiah at St Andrew's, and this Easter it is the Gothic revival glamour of St George's Cathedral, staging two performances of Mozart's Requiem with the West Australian Ballet.

I guess it should make sense really - the Passion plays, the pulpit, the preachers - what is the congregation of church but another example of an audience searching for greater meaning or understanding in life?

Choreographed by Natalie Weir, the WA Ballet presented a mostly abstract, but none the less sombre and spiritual dance to Lacrimosa, a beautiful piece interwoven throughout Mozart's Requiem.

I'd forgotten how much I'd missed seeing the high classical style of ballet live; and the shapes, movements and lines of the dancers were of such pure beauty to me that it was as if they were in a dream.

While the sight lines for the "stage" were imperfect - the Great Crossing of the Cathedral was were the bulk of the performance was detailed and the large columns blocked some of the sections - overall, the audience still managed to see much of the narrative and there were large plasma screen monitors set up to provide a more intimate insight during various pietas between the lead dancers or a full stage overview of the corps de ballet.

The dancers were ably supported by soloists from the WA Opera, with backing from the St George's Cathedral Consort under the reverent musical direction of Joseph Nolan. Stewart Smith showcased his organist skills for the short 60 minute+ running time, with flourishes provided by two trumpeters and a timpanist completing the musicians.

With no obligation to pay for the performance witnessed, I nonetheless gave generously towards the event upon my exit; both for the guilt of being a self confessed lapsed Catholic, and for the spiritual and theatrical enjoyment that I had gained from this devout start to the Easter season.

Moonwebs & Scorched Thongs

2009-04-07T16:21:00.006+08:00

Sunday, 7 April 2009

So you think you can dance? Yes, we are in the midst of a youthquake dance craze and boys are no longer afraid to show off their acrobatic and partner lifting skills courtesy of many hours at the ballet barre, and girls can rightly bring it! to the hiphop floor and krump till it hurts.

Steps Youth Dance Company, celebrating it's 20th year of creating dance for more than 2000 young people between the ages of 9 and 24 years, has contributed greatly to the development of movement and dance theatre in Western Australia. It started a Boys Can Dance initiative 12 years ago which has paid handsome dividends in the equal representation of males and females in this production's cast, and a relatively balanced view of gender politics for Generation Y & Z (the latter of whom I like to refer to as the iGeneration - as in iPod or internet).

A rather erotic quote was used in the miniprogram supplied at the Playhouse Theatre from Project Artistic Director, Alice Lee Holland:

"Male and female represent the two sides of the great radical dualism. But, in fact, they are perpetually passing into one another. Fluid hardens to solid, solid rushes to fluid. There is no purely masculine man, no purely feminine woman." - Margaret Fuller, The Dial Magazine, 1843

Confronting sexuality it would seem (the quote was supplied by one of the dancers for a communal ideas pin up board), but don't worry, this performance piece was more interested in investigating issues of gender than of coupling.

Flowing segments moving from period costume era ettiquette to present day schoolyard sectionals (the It girls, the Sports Jocks, the Squares, the Outsiders) transfered through from the opening onwards and there was always a constant pace across stage from left to right - signifying the passage of time, the journey from child to youth to adulthood - just that ever present movement that typifies growth.

I found the segments danced by the boys dynamic and interesting, at times dark and typically testosterone layered, but with enough creative technique and insight from the dancers to reveal that core of art and sensitivity that males on the surface sometimes choose to eschew.

The selection and choreography for the girls was pretty and at times melancholy, but I found a lot of the dancers seemed to be rather follow-the-leader in their movements - was this reflecting the stereotype that females are happy to go with the flow and are less inclined to rebel and display agressive movement then males? It would have been intriguing to see a few awkward, rebelling or emo edged girls expressing their individuality, but maybe I'm seeing conformity when I should really be intuiting camaraderie.

The schoolyard scenes were fun and relatable, with comic personalities giving us an insight into the dancers on stage. It's too easy sometimes to look at line and technique when appreciating dance and forgo the charisma of the performers.

I'm sure there were a lot of friends and family at the matinee I attended as the final scenes showing off in small groups or individually some amazing moves got the audience pumping and whooping it up - take that, Channel Ten! Look out for this year's class to graduate to an audition auditiorium for So You Think You Can Dance fame in the near future.

Looking forward to STEPS 21st birthday party in 2010!

The Marriage of Figaro

2009-03-31T11:44:00.010+08:00

Saturday, 28 March 2009

Light, frothy and as mind twisting as an alcopop, Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro is an effervescent treat; it's mainstream familiarity not deterring the serious opera goer, rather it gives them a chance to enjoy the genius composer's prankster wit as we all laugh at the upstairs/ downstairs shenanigans within a country estate outside Seville.

I won't belabour the plot, suffice to say there are mistaken identities galore, boys dressed as girls (though that role is actually played by a girl dressed as a boy...who then has to masquerade as a girl - more Victor/ Victoria confusion!), romantic triangles, quadrangles and possibly even a pentacle; but a happy ending is assured; long lost families are found and true love truimphs.

The pace and performances were brisk and humourous with James Clayton skipping through his title role and Sara Macliver proving a fiesty foil as Susanna, Figaro's true love eager to outwit the Il Conte d'Almaviva (Luke Gabbedy), their philandering aristocratic employer, who is determined to wear down her protestations.

Stuart Liang was a hoot as Don Basilio/ Don Curzio, his round moonface alternatively bulging with bluster or sly with machinations and he, Marcellina (Sarah-Janet Dougiamas) and Bartolo (Conal Coad) provided much laughter and gossip in the opening act.

I loved the way the stage was dressed, the heavy curtains of light rust providing both set and cover in Act 1 and they reminded me of the layers upon layers of female courtly dress - under which just about all the males in the cast were eager to get to! There were touches of anachronistic modernity admist the props - a 50s style hair dryer, an ironing board and iron which were humourously affected, however I found the audience room columns in Act 3 rather squat and ugly and so out of place with the lighter colours employed in the rest of the sets.

The WA Symphony Orchestra ably supported the players on stage, but the WA Opera Chorus were practically a blip on the scene, mainly utilised in the audience room and apparently not even worthy of a bow as only the principals and supporting cast got the chance to receive applause from the audience. Ah well...

But the show itself was delightful, and an enjoyable evening of champagne fun.

Assassins

2009-03-23T15:29:00.007+09:00

Saturday, 21 March 2009

It's always a little disconcerting to be at the wrong end of a gun, and while I knew that the pistols the actors pointed right into the audience were toys, painted sinister to fit Stephen Sondheim's darkly humourous musical, I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy when the assassins stood as a collective row and sung with passion about how "Everyone's Got The Right" because they judged it to be so via the barrel of a gun.

Director Paul Treasure has brought many a complicated production to life and here is one which stars anti-heroes that would be all too easy to hate. These characters are not merely murderers, no that's far too ordinary a term for their aspirations - these people, real people in American history - sought to be something far more significant, special; and in attempting (and in most of this musical's plot succeeding) in killing the President, they have changed the way the leader of the free world interacts with ordinary Americans. He is elevated and then vilified, in that respect Australians can recognize that there may be something of a tall poppy syndrome at play here, where the ordinary resents the extraordinary.

The stage was dressed well and reminiscent of the American flag; a small musical band in the left hand corner with the backdrop of a glittery blue curtain, a curved bar to the right slashed with thick white and red. The wide empty front stage was bare - this space would be inhabited by each assassin in turn so they could build their world through song and story as we jumped backwards and forwards through time and presidents.

Peter "Pear" Carr was a strong and interweaving presence throughout the piece, not only did he play the egotistical actor assassin John Wilkes Booth, but he went on to portray president after president, giving the audience the many ways a man can die.

The ensemble was unsteady in some parts; chorus numbers were strong, however the band at times drowned out individual singers and as Sondheim puts a lot of story in his lyrics, if you didn't know the musical very well you could miss out on the clever dialogue and smart characterizations inherent in the work.

A challenging show, but proof that musical theatre is more than just singing about love and adventure - the scene when the ensemble calls as ghosts of both past and future haranguing Lee Harvey Oswald to legitimatize them by killing JFK, is truly chilling.

Arabian Nights

2009-03-20T14:32:00.023+09:00

Thursday, 19 March 2009

As a child I was captivated by the stories from the Arabian Nights - they were right there next to my copies of Grimms Fairy Tales, Enid Blyton and the fabled legends of Greek, Roman and Norse mythology.

It's been a while since I've indulged in reading fantasy (though author Mercedes Lackey has coaxed me back to the fold by respinning the fairytale genre with her Tales of the Five Hundred Kingdoms and Elemental Masters series); but there was still enough of a pull that when I saw that WAAPA was putting on a dramatic production of this classic I had to buy a ticket to check it out.

Dominic Cooke's TMA/Equity award winning Young Vic Theatre adaptation introduces us to a heartbroken and consequently cruel King who having been betrayed by his Queen, resorts to wed a new bride every evening and then execute her at dawn. Many women die by this edict, and one day clever and brave Shahrazad, the daughter of the Vizier comes up with a plan to save the remaining women and ultimately her kingdom by offering herself as the next bride. She asks for her sister to stay with her after her marriage and just before dawn, as secretly instructed earlier, young Dinarzad asks her elder sister to tell her a story...

Most of us know that Shahrazad then proceeds to weave tale after tale of magical, humourous, dramatic and thought-provoking adventures involving Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, Sinbad the Sailor and many others, day by day gaining a stay of execution as the King goes from indifferent to entranced by her storytelling skills.

Finally, Shahrazad decides to test his heart - after 1001 nights she refuses to tell him a tale and prays that she has managed to heal the pain of betrayal through her love, as it soon becomes evident that it's not just her life that is on the line...

This was a wonderful production, I had no idea what to expect from the 2nd year Acting students at WAAPA's Enright Studio, and the surprise and joy at such a imaginative performance made me feel like I was a child, discovering these fantastical stories again for the first time.

The ensemble worked together seamlessly under the expert and inspired direction of Lisa Scott-Murphy and the audience could tell that the company was having just as much fun bringing us this show as we were having watching it.

Special mention must be given to the following: costume designer, Katie Christie for her simple yet adaptable pieces for the many multiple characters the actors portrayed; lighting designer Tom Stoney for transporting us, not unlike a magic carpet ride, into the heart of all the adventures and within the King's memory and mind; and the invisible and very effective props crew of Dean Gibbs, Jorja Christensen and Nicolas Horne who supported and anticipated all the actors needs.

An enchanting evening.

Shane Warne - the Musical

2009-03-19T09:55:00.010+09:00

Wednesday, 18 March 2009

I am a huge fan of Casey Bennetto's previous satirical cabaret hit Keating! so when I heard that he was part of the team bringing us the life and times of one of our best known and tabloid mugging cricket stars, it was a no-brainer to buy a ticket to see the show.

A lot of my friends sniggered at the idea of a musical theatre rendition of Warney's fiobles, from his diet pills fracas to the 'gotcha!' SMS headlines screaming of his extracurricular activities on the England tour, but the show is a fantastic night out and actually humanizes the man somewhat.

Eddie Perfect, who also wrote and composed the music for the production, is fantastic as the titular character, his shambolic demeanour and boyish charm making Shane likable and somehow almost innocent, a man-child who is given an easy life due to talent and who indulges in booze, pills, cigarettes and women because they are available.

Dream sequences involving a giant cigarette, worry about hair loss and baby doll dressed bedmates skewer the protagonist while the rest of the numbers consistently reveal sharp writing, current takes of these very real people's lives (Shane on meeting Simone waxes that she should be "Dancing with the Stars") and Australia's own tall poppy syndrome.

The professional ensemble were all superbly voiced and it was great to see Mike McLeish (star of Keating!) in the line-up. Amy Lehpamer as Simone was also suitable sympathetic and Sally Bourne as Shane's mother was both comforting and fussily bossy - you could see that Shane, at the crux of it all might still be a little bit of a mama's boy.

I loved how the show opened with the band playing "Fanfare for the Common Man" which has been used as a television theme for many sports shows, this version was reminiscent of the rock kick it was given headlining Channel 9's sporting shows at the height of cricket tragicdom.

We also got an announcement at the start to leave our mobile phones ON...'cos you never know when an important SMS might be coming through!

Rent

2009-03-16T13:34:00.010+09:00

Saturday, 14 March 2009

I confess, while I liked certain portions of this musical and I know that it is well-lauded and has won a cache of awards... maybe I'm viewing it from a 2009 sensibility - which would make Jonathan Larsen's posthumous Broadway triumph almost a generation removed from it's zeitgeist era of late 1980's Lower East Side New York.

One of the first original American rock operas to reinvent the genre of musical theatre, Rent is loud, smart, rude and defiant - very much like it's youth quake MTV inducted creators and cast, and it's energy, confrontational subject matter and sometimes comedic characters and scenarios mark it as a worthy recipient of not just a Tony Award for best musical, but also the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 1996.

This production was staged at WAAPA's Roundhouse Theatre, the audience very much up close and personal, right into the trials and tribulations of this AIDS and HIV-positive soap, dealing with hook-ups, AZT programs, relationship and commitment issues, debauchery and death.

Mitch Roberts played the central character of Mark, who through his candid camera and pontification introduces us to his merry band of mayflies, "No day but today!"

He was spot-on with his accent and it never wavered even in song, a difficult thing to pull off for the long period of time a majority of characters were on stage for. His lone status as being the only one not afflicted gravitated the audience somewhat; he was the viewer, trying to empathize with his creative friends, but ultimately selling out to escape the poverty and despair.

There seemed to be some sound issues on the night I went, a number of the singers were overpowered by the small but loud band, and pertinent lyrics and dialogue were lost to the newbies yet to class themselves as "Rent-heads".

Francine Cain as sexy and scandalous Maureen rocked the house in her opening number and played cute as both irresistible and pain-in-the-ass, the most memorable of ex-girlfriends.

Other romances swirled and slipped away but love seemed to still breathe as Mimi reclaimed enough in the closing scenes to not die in the arms of tortured Roger.

Does Rent now look a little self-indulgent in today's pared back world, where New York though not necessarily sombre is now far more aware of where it and America's excesses have taken it? Maybe. I would say more that the very contemporary vein that brought it acclaim over a decade ago might now be what marks it a epochal piece of the post Reaganite years.

Tales of King Arthur

2009-03-16T13:33:00.008+09:00

Friday, 13 March 2009

I've been seeing shows on and off at WAAPA for the better part of a year now - ever since I discovered their Performance Program - but tonight was the first time I got a chance to be part of the audience at their Amphitheatre, an outdoor location close to the main studios and Building 1.

The saliva-inducing scent of a fundraising sausage sizzle drew the medium sized crowd to the location and the seating was most definitely on the casual side, blankets and throws to soften the functional sitting areas and tickets unreserved.

Cane hoops sturdily bound together served as a backdrop for the stage and they were scored here and there with fairy lights, cloth and pulleys. An open floor was the stage and found objects like modified garbage bins were turned over and reused to transform between the stone which held Arthur's sword to thrones and lookout points.

The legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table have fascinated scholars and the public alike for generations with their tales of gallantry and romance; trials, sacrifice and reward and at the centre of it all the doomed love triangle between Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot.

This production however, did not hold to the Middle Ages conceit of castles and courtly refinement, the actors were in a much coarser garb, almost Stone Age - with wild hair and bare chests for the boys and neutral dresses and heavy eye shadow for the girls.

Various roles were co-opted throughout the show; Merlin was played by no less than four different actors, his cape passed on and signifying his new incarnation Doctor Who-like; and various Knights of the Round Table also became opposing evil knights, kings or demons.

A character that I have not seen extensively in many representations of King Arthur was that of Kay, Arthur's often bossy older brother, a preening fop of a man played by Reece Budin who provided a lot of the comedy for the production.

Jamie Ward as Arthur was scrappy and keen - the King as a hormonally charged teenager; Luana Farina was pretty as the dutiful but secretly torn Guinevere, and Benjamin Hoetjes impressed the crowd not just with his fire-breathing skills (take that dragon!) but with his rough hewn romance and sensitivity in the role guilt-ridden Lancelot.

One of the funniest aspects of the show was the random use of regional accents. There was even a note in the program to allay the confusion with the caveat that "some accents are used to indicate a character's traits rather than region". I guess that explains the thick Russian burr that Morgana Le Fey sported and then lost!

A fun show, exuberant and well-told.

A Flowering Tree

2009-03-09T16:35:00.006+09:00

Saturday, 7 March 2009

I had amazing seats to this production courtesy of a friend who sings with the WA Symphony Chorus, and it was quite a change to see the orchestra dominating the stage at the Perth Concert Hall while the pared back and rather muted (costume wise anyway) WA Opera Chorus were regaled to standing behind the musicians.

This was to be a semi-staged production of John Adams' contemporary opera based on a folktale from Southern India. The story focuses on a girl who can miraculously transform into a beautiful tree thus providing a way for her poor family to gain a modest income from the flowers that blossom upon her branches. The symbolism of a girl transforming into a woman is at the heart of this story, as Kumudha's simple life is ultimately taken over with more adult concerns, such as a prince who demands her as his bride and then only seems to want her when she metamorphosizes into the tree(!); and a jealous sister-in-law who talks the lovely Kumudha into showing her courtly friends her magical transmutation, only to grow bored and careless and subjecting her sister-in-law to pain and deformity as Kumudha is left in the rain. Unable to complete her tree-to-human transformation, Kumudha becomes a misshapen stump of flesh and wood. She crawls away and hides herself in the gutter, ashamed of how she looks.

The Prince, unable to find her, thinks she has run away from him and is overcome with grief and remorse. He gives up his royalty to wander aimlessly in the wilderness.

After many years almost by accident, he enters a distant kingdom that his sister now reigns and to cheer him, she finds a band a minstrels who unbeknownst to either of them have taken in Kumudha. As Kumudha sings to him, The Prince recognizes her and tenderly bathes her malformed figure; a miracle of pure transformation occurs and Kumudha become wholly human again for the lovers to be reunited.

Rachelle Durkin as the lovely Kumudha was beauteous in form and voice, her face as expressive in person as on the large screen which projected selected views of the leads, chorus and musicians, interspersed with images of ancient Indian art and montages of water with falling flowers.

I found Russell Thomas was reasonable enough in his initially unsympathetic role of The Prince, however he seemed a little stiff and to have hardly any chemistry with his leading lady.

Sanford Sylvan as the Storyteller was our anchor into this fantastical world, and his voice, stance and acting was impressive, expertly weaving a spell over the audience with his resonant and controlled baritone, dominating the orchestra even through some very loud arrangements in the opera.

The WA Opera Chorus were charged along with the WA Symphony Orchestra with bringing forth all the remaining characters in the piece; from Kumudha's disciplinary mother to the cacophony of The Princess' careless and spiteful friends. For some reason, the chorus sections were sung in Spanish (the majority of the libretto is in English) which made you have to seek out the surtitles set on relatively small screens either side of the stage (I pity those who would have had to squint to see them if they were much further back than the middle of the audience), but maybe vowel-heavy Spanish is more suited to what Adams wanted to skim over his almost film scoric production.

Enjoyable, but maybe more so for fans of classical music.

The Year of Magical Thinking

2009-02-20T16:09:00.015+09:00

Thursday, 19 February 2009

UWA was abuzz with activity this evening, filled not with students ardent to earn their degrees, but with the general public, effervescent with choice for the large array of offerings from the Perth International Arts festival.

Walking past audiences heading towards the Sommerville Auditorium and the Octogon Theatre, I thought again what a beautiful evening it was, warm and calm, with just enough humidity to make it comfortable to leave your jacket at home.

I was visiting the campus to see Joan Didion's Pulitzer prize winning memoir brought to life at the Dolphin Theatre; and what was originally staged as a one woman tour de force in New York is now experimentally being brought to a Perth audience with two people on the stage.

A few weeks ago the Black Swan State Theatre and PIAF had invited their subscribers to an 'artists meet the audience' talk about how their production was progressing, and I had been intrigued by director Kate Cherry's concept of having not just the character of Joan Didion on stage, but of utilizing cellist and composer Iain Grandage to provide an internal soundtrack of sorts for Didion's monologue.

At the session the music Grandage previewed was dreamy, at times passive and then fervent and I thought how wonderful it would be coupled with this monologue detailing a woman's journey to understand how life could have taken away two of the things she most held dear.

But at that session Helen Morse did not speak overmuch, preferring to defer to her director for most of the questions.

At the performance last night she was incandescent, her grey-white hair haloed around her face, her bird-like features almost pushing into skeletal, and her eyes at turns defiant and despairing.

There was a slight jar when she first began to speak, for of course Didion is American and that accent in Australia will always stand out, but within minutes our ears warmed to the familiar cadences and the conversational tone of the piece made you feel as if you were right there with her in the hospital room, at her home in Malibu, in Paris with her husband, and at her side at his funeral.

The stage revealed two islands of white sand built up and surrounded by clear water. It was mostly still, but the subtle lighting design by Matt Scott would at times play up the ripples across the surface which was then reflected onto the back of the stage wall.

To be honest, I have to say that I found the soundscape improvised by Grandage rather distracting; while at times the words and the music seemed to work synergistically, overall I felt that Morse as an actress was much more compelling with just her face, her voice and Didion's powerful quixotic dialogue. I also felt that the sense of loneliness that Didion was attempting to control but at the same time impart upon her audience was belied by the fact that there was another person on stage.

Overall, well worth seeing for Helen Morse's rich and transformative performance and the evocative memory stagescape.

Questions Without Notice

2009-02-05T12:57:00.009+09:00

Wednesday, 4 February 2009

Contemporary dance performances can be interesting, ephemeral and make me want to learn how to navigate a whole new language simply so I have more adjectives at my disposal.

Attending a preview performance of Questions Without Notice, a new work by Performing Lines WA at the Playhouse; I was stunned to see how stripped back the theatre was. The audience could see the bricks all the way to the back and you realise what an open and immediate feel you can get from this most compact and immediate of stages.

The eight dancers arrived at the sidelines of the stage at differing intervals, there were no wings to mask them and they looked like they had just walked off the street. They took turns to follow and sit on the various benches littered across the stage and these items were the main props used throughout the performance.

While obviously utilizing dance, in variations and incarnations (there's a particularly hilarious moment when someone is asked what scares him and he replies 'The Spice Girls' and then their anthem is blasted through for the women on stage to zigazig aye!); there was extensive use made of the video cameras and projection facilities as the dancers spoke to us, commented on each other, strutted, raged, flirted, translated and then invited the audience to join them on stage!

I'll admit it - I was there! It was fun and hilarious and kind of surreal to look out and see the seat you had just abandoned, but who can resist a groovy MC (embodied with smarmy charm by Michael Whaites, a standout all rounder) urging you to 'find a partner!' 'go necking!' and grinning like a Cheshire cat over the dancers demonstrating the 'advanced roll in the hay!'

Spontaneous, eclectic, mischievous and surprising, Questions Without Notice made you live in the moment; wonder whether you could think on your feet or were more comfortable to fall back on the familiar; and realise how unplanned responses can sometime deliver reflective insights.

Carpe diem, huh?

Trinity Hall Music Concert

2009-01-22T12:54:00.011+09:00

Wednesday, 21 January 2009

I'd heard from some friendly sources that a small private concert was being held tonight at this residential college in Nedlands...

Being a classical musicophile AND finding out that there was the added bonus that it was no charge to attend, I eagerly sought out a seat in the reasonably sized auditorium the college boasted.

There was almost an embarrassment of riches with the amount of musical talent at the event - all the winsome performers were attached to the WA Opera; and while the evening was quite casual with an easy back and forth flow of conversation between the singers and the audience, the works presented was worthy of anything you would find on the professional stage.

The concert opened strongly with a flirtatious aria from The Barber of Seville sung by Courtney Pitman-Kerr, the rich clarity of her jewel-like tones matching the peacock-emerald hue of her gown. During the concert she maintained a lovely rapport with the audience, introducing her various pieces with humour and insight, and switching easily between opera and jazz.

Daniel McMillian, who also took over as the pianist at one point to allow composer and accompanist Daniel Masmanian to display his additional skills as a violinist; was a lovelorn tenor, sighing ah me! and endearing to gain but a glimpse of the pretty girls who would fall in love with his respective characters later, in pieces from The Barber of Seville and The Elixir of Love.

Annette Gebauer's breathy renditions of familiar jazz standards gave the audience a chance to enjoy a cabaret style feel to her songs, and she provided harmonious support to various other numbers throughout the concert.

Sitiveni Talei, winner of the Mathy Scholarship for 2008, was a deft and intuitive actor, complimenting his exceptional baritone with a swooning presence. His pieces were rich and strong, and filled the auditorium with warmth and benign power.

An unexpected treat for the evening was a world premiere composition by Daniel Masmanian inspired by the poetry of Sir Philip Sydney. Talei and Masmanian gave subtle and yearning performances with their respective instruments of voice and piano to the quietly attuned audience.

As with the whole evening, I was simply enraptured by the music.

The Luke & Wyatt Show

2008-12-22T11:42:00.011+09:00

Saturday, 20 December 2008

Bet you didn't think I'd be reviewing comedy/ cabaret type shows, huh? :) Well, I hadn't really thought about concert type gigs when I started this blog, but really they are performance based oeuvres too, so why not?

My pal Suzanne had invited me to the Hyde Park Hotel for Luke & Wyatt's 'Home for Christmas' extravaganza, and the casual pub atmosphere was a fun start to the evening. A decent meal and a ready bar got everyone in the audience relaxed, and cuddly MC Werzel regaled us with tales of his alternate career as a passive-aggressive bouncer, who has worked out a fabulous (and non-violent) way of telling off-their-face CUBs (Cashed Up Bogans) that they weren't going to be able to get in with their chosen foot attire. (Thongs don't usually translate from beach to club...unless they're the type worn as underwear!)

Laura Davies was then introduced; her dreamy, slightly surreal and intelligent routine going in some intriguing, but no less humourous directions; her voice the perfect overlay for a smart YouTube animation short.

Ben Russell completed the opening act for the main event, and he offered a canny interpretation of the phone conversation between himself and the comedy duo that had regulars laughing with recognition. Wyatt later revisited that conversation with his take on his piss-take.

Luke and Wyatt stormed the stage after the break like returning turks on their way to conquer the big time, namely Melbourne, where the pair are planning to be based in the New Year. With ready songs and a comfortable repartee, you could see that they already had the makings of a fun comedy duo, could a spot on a nationally syndicated radio show be something to aim for?

With Luke on guitar alternating with Wyatt on piano, they led a fairly tight set of favourites and a few new songs, the banter light and ribald and perfectly suited to the home town audience made up of fans and friends.

The infamous Tater Song was the encore of the night with the duo inviting all and sundry to join in (of which a fair few of audience did!) and after the rousing applause, the pair even made their way amongst the throng to chat and thank all those who had come to their Christmas gig.

Here's to the boys achieving the giddy heights of comedic success!

http://www.lukeandwyatt.com/

Handel's Messiah - Perth Oratorio Choir

2008-12-17T12:30:00.011+09:00

Sunday, 14 December 2008

Sunday was hot and busy, with Perth's weather deciding to revert to it's usual sunny self (the downpour of just the Wednesday before evaporating in our minds); as I made my way to St Andrew's Uniting Church in the City, ready to be bathed in the lush music of one of the Baroque era's most celebrated composers.

Handel's famously performed work is a favourite for the Christmas season and I admit to using the excuse to attend this concert as a small penance for my lapsed Catholic status.

Handel had been known to personally conduct the Messiah on numerous occasions during his lifetime, and was reputed to often alter the music to best suit the needs of the singers and orchestra available for performances. As a result, there is no one single authentic version of the piece; and it has notable rearrangements and variations (including an adaptation by Mozart), which have further widen the canon of choice for conductors.

The church was packed, and I myself was diverted from the usual pew seating towards the side section, usually reserved for the mass' choir. It afforded a fantastic view of the soloists, chamber orchestra and conductor Warwick Potter, clearly enthused about the work, though sweating profusely in his tuxedo in the afternoon heat.

I wasn't sure how long the performance was going to be, but after the first section of approximately 50 minutes, I was told that the Perth Oratorio Choir would be singing the full work; usually divided in three parts and which addressed specific events in Christ's life.
Part One concerns the Advent; Part Two details the passion, resurrection, ascension, and the evangelization of the Christian message; and Part Three is largely based upon the events chronicled in The Revelation to St. John.

Unfortunately, due to a previous engagement I was only able to enjoy the first two sections (I noticed a few people listening passively with their eyes closed:) but overall I found the music rich and sonorous. Before I left though, I was treated to the most lauded section of the work - the Hallelujah chorus.

Here the audience is traditionally asked to stand (and sing along! Or was that just me?) during the movement, a custom from the era of King George II who was said to have been so moved by the work that he rose to his feet.
There was also the belief that Christ is the King of Kings and in standing, George II acknowledged that he, too is subject to the Lord of Lords.

A glorious way indeed to begin the Christmas season :)