The White Divers of Broome

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.