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.