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Reviews |
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February-April 2001 Alive at Williamstown Pier A Midsummer Night's Dream Brilliant Lies Buddy: The Musical Fred Goin' to the Island In Camera Liar, Madman, God? Ruthless! The Musical Sleeping Beauty Svetlana in Slingbacks The Forest The Merchant of Venice Touch and Go Waiting for Godot |
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The Forest (Queensland Theatre Company, April 26 - May 12) Being obliged recently to check the dictionary definition of "several", I discovered one meaning to be "two or three, but not many". There are several reasons why Tom Gutteridge's current QTC production of The Forest provides a rewarding evening's entertainment. Primary among the several was Bille Brown as Gennadily Dem'yanych. It is worth the night for him alone. He moves, amuses and amazes as he dances on the performance high-wire as an actors' actor, playing an actor playing an indeterminate military personage with a heart as large and as warm as this gifted artist's compelling presence and near flawless craft. Other aspects of the production are sound and secure but on a lesser plane. While the design and lighting allow the action to progress fluidly, the endeavour to bring to the play a touch of modern green relevance with a smattering of tree stumps and a brief appearance by a thankfully silent chain-saw was forced and irrelevant. The forest of this play is not one of the ecological plunder of timber, but the enervating hypocrisy of petty people possessed by power, manipulation and greed. As Brown's character (Neschast for short) questions shortly before his final departure, "How did we get into this forest, crawl into this undergrowth? See what we've done? We've disturbed the wildlife old chap. Frightened the birds of prey. Upset the natural order. Where old ladies marry schoolboys and young girls drown because life's so unbearable. That's the forest for you" This may suggest a timelessness and universality in theme but Ostrovsky (1823-1886) wrote some 50 plays and is described by Britannica.com as a "Russian Dramatist who is generally considered the greatest representative of the Russian realistic period". The Forest is called a comedy, but its humour is of its period, potently Russian and a prelude to Chekhov's. Ayckbourn's version does not consistently capture this essence. It generates from the friction between classes. At the time of its writing the power of the landowners was declining and the social standing and economic power of the recently emancipated serfs was rising as seen in the bargaining for land between the forest's matriarch, Raisa Pavlovna (Geraldine Turner) and the wood merchant Ivan Petrovich (Alex Menglet). It echoes in the droll humour of the servants Karp (Bryan Nason) — "It's not a good thing to be very young, sir. There's no advantage to be gained", and Ulita ( Nicola Scott), who spies and reports on behalf of her mistress with the grim expertise of a Nineteenth Century prototype of a KGB agent. It resonates in the conflicts in attitudes between those for whom love and friendship are genuine — the young lovers Aksyuska (Raisa's neice) and Pytor (the wood merchant's son), and those for whom such are simply matters of convenience, accumulation and immediate gratification — the 50-plus Raisa and her 20-year- old ward and ultimate fiance Bulanov (Trenton Shipley). These are the "wild life" of the forest whose plans are disturbed, but ultimately unaltered, by the unexpected appearance of Raisa's "provincial actor (tragic)" nephew Neschast after an absence of 15 years, together with and his "comic actor" companion Arkadiy (Iain Gardiner). Accused of being "clowns" as they prepare to finally depart, Neschast retorts, "Clowns? We are artists ma'am, artists. You are the clowns. Us? If we love, then we love ... But you? All your lives you talk about social welfare, about loving your fellow men. And what have you done? ... Who have you ever given, comforted or consoled?" The first paradox of actors is that in their creative blend of art and craft, they work extremely hard at appearing not to be working at all. The production works at its bitterly humorous best when it plays at the Ostrovsky end of the spectrum. This is the realm that Brown and Alex Menglet inhabit and exploit. In performance Menglet is the second of my several and Nason and Nicola Scott the third and fourth. The production pressures us for laughs at the Ayckbourn end of the scale. In Ayckbourn's style, Miss Turner's studied posing and playing at, rather than in the character of Raisa, deprived her of the sadly humorous pathos of a woman endeavouring to deal with aging through a young lover, as a balance to Ostrovsky's otherwise obvious lack of any sympathy for his greedy and grasping creation. Likewise at the Ayckbourn end, Iain Gardner often worked patently too hard at being comic, to be comic, and provide a balanced foil to Brown. The younger players, while competent and clearly committed, would do well in the course of the season to analyse what it is in performances of the several, which in addition to experience, sets them apart. Perhaps current acting schools have forgotten that creativity and craft are sail and rudder of Thespe's ship. — Ron Finney (Performance seen: 27th April 2001) Other views: Alison Cotes (Courier-Mail, 28 Apr) described The Forest as a "real winner". Some of Geraldine Turner's stage moments are "simply brilliant": "this woman fighting exploitative men retains humanity and pathos". Bille Brown "gives his finest comic performance to date while proving what a subtle actor he can be". Touch and Go (Act 1 Theatre, April 27 - May 12) I was amused to realise halfway through Touch and Go that I had been seated next to another reviewer — one with a notebook, no less. I tried to point this fact out to my mother, who I'd taken along, but she told me to shush quick smart, or I'd miss the show. Good advice, too. A farce comedy requires undivided attention, as the plots normally twist and turn faster than the Wipeout ride at Dreamworld. Touch and Go is no different. A clever script supported by strong performances makes for a great night of theatre in Brisbane's northern suburbs. I won't get too carried away with plot, but stay with me while I outline the basics. Every Wednesday, Brian (Ross Marsden) borrows his friend George's (Glen Male) flat to conduct an affair with the delectable Wendy (Kimberley Platt). George is fine with this arrangement, as at that time, he's round at Brian's house doing the nasty with Brian's wife Hilary (Wendy Kemp), and his wife Jessica is on business in America. This has been going on quite smoothly for three months, but this Wednesday is different. Jessica returns from overseas a day early, and discovers Brian and Wendy in her flat. This is the beginning of, as a friend of mine would say, the "wacky shenanigans" that comprise the rest of the play. What follows is two hours of mayhem and madness, and plenty of cocovan thrown in to boot. Act 1 has chosen well with this play, written by Derek Benfield and directed by Act 1 veteran Colin Russell. The small cast allows for strong performances, and the minimal set design works well on the Old Shire Hall stage. Male and Marsden play up their roles as the cheating husbands, desperately trying to have their cake and eat it too. The play calls for some great physical humour and visual jokes, and Male and Marsden get to exhibit their flair for physical comedy and slapstick. When Male ran into his flat in an ill-fitting Oxfam suit after twice leaving Brian and Hilary's place in his boxer shorts, my mother laughed so hard I didn't think she'd make it to the curtain call. Kemp and Platt as the objects of the men's desires are also entertaining — Kemp by giving her husband Brian more and more to worry about, and Platt by looking horribly confused for most of the second half as she wonders why everyone thinks she's a Red Cross nurse. I particularly enjoyed Pauline Davies' performance as George's wife Jessica. Fantastically English in all of her mannerisms, she carried off her role as the only one with nothing to hide with a Penelope Keith in "To The Manor Born" precision. My criticisms would only be technical ones, most notably the design of the stage. The Act 1 stage is quite a small area, and it was divided in two to represent the two flats. Since more of the action took place in George and Jessica's flat, the Brian and Hilary flat could have been slightly smaller. The play called for a lot of jumping up and running around, and occasionally the "invisible wall" between the two flats was crossed. A smaller second flat could have remedied this problem. Also slightly inconsistent were the characters' accents, all ostensibly English, but not of the same standard. However, these things did not ruin a fine night of theatre. It's good to see smaller theatres like Act 1 choosing plays that suit the space they have to work with and also suit the taste of the audience, who all enjoyed it. Well, I know my Mum did, but as for that other reviewer . . . — Natalie Bochenski (Performance seen: 27th April 2001) Ruthless! The Musical (Cement Box Theatre, April 20 - May 12) I missed Ruthless on its first, and highly successful, time round in Brisbane last year, when it won the Perform/4MBS Award for Best Musical. I'm glad I didn't miss it this time, because Mixed Company's Director Simone de Haas has once again given Brisbanites a great night's entertainment. This clever show is a mad mix of old fashioned melodrama (piano accompaniment and all) and cynical post-modern reflexion of all the clichés of musical comedies past and present, with a special focus on the cut-throat world of child stars and wannabes, and a side-swipe or two at theatre critics and the media. The performance was punctuated by the applause of the packed house showing its appreciation of the array of talent displayed by a top-line cast who, to a woman (and Paul Dellit, in stunning drag), had the voices to carry off the musical demands of songs that were more narrative than memorable, but very right for the night. Each of the excellent ensemble cast had several well-deserved moments in the sun. Charlie Koranias played flinty-eyed child actress, Tina Denmark, as Shirley Temple out of Bad Seed. Alida Rae gave Tina's teacher and wannabe actress, Myrna Thorn, a darkly comic bitterness, and Sarah Watson made the most of the thankless position as her hapless rival. Gillian Simpson's stirring rendition of one of the most cynical songs, 'I hate musicals', was a highlight of the show, while Janet Devlin blossomed in the role of the maid rampant. Dellit was delicious in his reprisal of Sylvia St Croix, whose flamboyant style was Auntie Mame with acid drops of Sunset Boulevard's ageing Norma Desmond. But perhaps the most remarkable performance was that of Leisa Barry-Smith, also from the original cast, and who gets to play a Stepford wife in reverse. Her unravelling robotic housewife is a masterpiece, and she does this on a set that also deserves a special mention, with its dramatic transformation from virulently cheerful Sears Roebuck kitsch to slick New York chic. And every other element of this production matched the performances on stage. The orchestra, and the pianist, were stars in their own right, and careful attention was paid to getting the rich assortment of costumes, the accessories and the hair styles just right. The Cement Box is small enough for even those in the back row to get a good view of the actors, provided that they don't sit or crouch down at the front of the stage. Altogether, this is yet another show that shows that Brisbane is flush with talent that we should be supporting to save them from becoming yet another statistic, or just leaving us for greener fields. And Ruthless gives not only those of us who love musicals, but those of us who don't, a very satisfying theatrical bang for our buck. — Anne Ring (Performance seen: 21st April 2001) Liar, Madman, God? (Harvest Rain Theatre Company, April 10-14, 2001) There can be little doubt that the crucifixion of Christ has been the most frequently dramatised event of all time: hence it is a challenge for any director to find a new way of presenting and interpreting the well-known story. Robbie Parkin has done well in this version, using the grounds of the Baptist Church's Gateway Centre to great effect as a backdrop to the narrative. This is a mobile piece of theatre, with the audience being led up hill and down dale to view various tableaux in the life of Jesus. Enactment of the story at night among the gum trees with torches lighting the way gives a special atmosphere to the drama. In underlining the humanity of Jesus, the Christ-child is born on hay bales to his mother's birthing cries and dies groaning on a tree. He preaches the beatitudes as lepers emerge from the crowd to touch his garment's hem. Zacchaeus appears above us in a eucaplypt. Most vividly, disciples in a boat in the middle of a dam cringe and cry out at the drum-provided thunder, Jesus quells the storm as he walks across the water towards them, and Peter succeeds, and then fails, in emulating his Master's miracle, emerging dripping from the lake. Confrontations with soldiers, religious officials and temple shopkeepers are handled well, and there are frequent injections of humour to break the tension. Through conversations between Jesus and a chess-playing adversary, questions are raised about the nature of Jesus' mission and the limits of forgiveness. Nathan Kotzur is perhaps too stereotypal a Jesus in appearance, but captures well the complexities of a man with more questions than answers, flattered by the mob's attentions but uncertain about his role, and finally demonstrating hidden reservoirs of strength in defeating his diabolical enemy. Simon Radcliffe as his adversary effectively sows seeds of doubt and relentlessly asks all the difficult questions with cool logic. Other members of the cast as the disciples and opponents of Jesus double as flashlight wielders and marshalls, doing well in their multitudinous roles. Liar, Madman, God is the centrepiece of the Brisbane Easter Arts Festival, which also includes talks, film showings and an art exhibition. It is played as straight drama rather than as a devotional exercise, although given that the festival's audiences are almost exclusively from church congregations, some audience participation would not have been unwelcome. — John Henningham (Performance seen: 10th April 2001) |
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Alive at
Williamstown Pier (green Theatre Company, 29 March - 14 April, 2001) It is a pleasure to be able to review a play where the main problem is the risk of running out of superlatives. In Alive at Williamstown Pier the very small Brisbane green Theatre Company has produced just such a play, one that could hold its head high on any stage. This is a production in which there has been a perfect marriage between the actors and the author, harmonising in a seamless combination of intelligence, heart, wit and sensitivity. And this relationship is an important one, because this is a case where it is not just the play that's the thing, but also the playwright's powerful presentation of his struggles with the manic depression that has dogged his life for many years. To be able to reveal himself so nakedly takes a lot of courage. To do it so publicly also opens up the possibility that some of the audience may be drawn to attend by a degree of voyeurism, or simply an interest in the illness. And if that was all there was to the play, it would still be of interest for its educational value. But, happily for all of us, Neil Cole is a remarkably talented writer, who is able to move his audience effortlessly from hilarity to heartbreak, and back again. So it is good news that since this first, prize-winning, autobiographical play, he has already written two more, on quite different topics. Here, however, he has given us a finely crafted view of mental illness from the inside out. As such, it is interesting to compare his play with its predecessor at La Boite, which was also a semi-autobiographical first play about mental illness, but from the outside looking in. The laugh lines in Svetlana in Slingbacks were etched into the tragedy of a '60s migrant family imploding through the destructive force of a mother's mental illness. And the impact on family life is a recurring theme, also, in the modern setting of Alive at Williamstown Pier. Nonetheless, its take-home message is a much more hopeful and positive one, delivered by someone who has been through the mill, and seen that it can, sometimes, be survived. The quality of the writing is matched by the quality of the acting. James Kable gives the central character of Dave a core of vulnerability and warmth while shifting convincingly into the turbulent extremes of his illness. His struggles to get help through the system are delivered with a fine sense of irony, and psychiatrists could do worse than come and see how they look from the patient's perspective. The three actors who play the psychiatrists, and all the other roles, do so with superb style. Elise Greig, David Clendinning and Hayden Spencer are each required to switch to and fro among a multiplicity of characters, and they succeed in making each of their characters a distinctive individual through the sheer power of their craft. Perhaps the most noteworthy example in terms of transformation by dint of body language and voice, is that of the very young Greig and Spencer into brilliantly aged, and quite vicious, lawn bowlers. This has to be seen to be believed. Spencer is an exciting new actor, whose role as Mick, Dave's fellow patient and friend, is one of the hilarious and touching highlights of the play. Greig shows that she is a gifted comedian, in a series of sparkling and exuberant performances, but she is equally able to take on the complex role of a troubled and insecure psychiatrist. And as for Clendinning, well, hello, David, it's so good to have you back where you belong. For those of us who remember a time when no major production (theatrical or operatic) was complete without the multi-talented Clendinning in a featured role, it's good to see him back on the boards, and performing with such verve and gusto. He, and all the actors, do a masterful job of maintaining the delicate balance between the emotional depth of the play and a physicality that demands — and gets — fitness, timing and, occasionally, an almost balletic synchronisation among its players. All this was done on a stage set that is most effective as the pier, and everywhere else in the play, by dint of a minimalist design, and clever lighting. While it all works well as theatre-in-the-round, perhaps the volume of the waves could be turned down a bit, so that Dave's monologues can be equally well heard all around, no matter which direction he is facing. Director Ian Lawson describes the producers' view of Alive as having set up camp "in the living room of our minds". Those who would like to share that experience can do so by seeing this brilliant production of a brave new play that blurs the barriers between them and us, whichever side we're on. — Anne Ring (Performance seen: 29th March 2001) Other views: Alison Cotes (Courier-Mail, 2 Apr) found this a play "full of surprises". "Don't miss this one," she wrote. "Script, direction, design and acting are all outstanding. I promise you'll laugh until you cry." Paul Galloway (Brisbane News, 11 Apr) found the "big residual emotions — grief, guilt and regret" to be "absent or sentimentalised", but overall a play which is "entertaining, well-produced and well-acted". Fred (Queensland Theatre Company, 23 February - 24 March, 2001) Fred is a rather bizarre comedy — dark and multi-faceted, with quite a few laughs plus a treatment of serious and challenging themes. Yet in the end it fails to satisfy. Death is, of course, the recurring theme, but not quite in the way expected. And it's a long way from being a whodunit in any shape or form. The play begins with the finding of a murdered body under the rotary clothes hoist, and the rather puzzlingly cynical and off-hand reactions of most of the characters to this unexpected event. Young Pamela by contrast takes the arrival very seriously, developing something of a necrophilial mindset. The body, for want of an identity, is nicknamed Fred. More deaths follow, equally unexpectedly, yet it becomes apparent that the most important deaths are several years in the past — those of the parents of sisters Pamela and Monica. The young women's unresolved relationship flows from their failure to come to terms with that tragedy (although their circle of so-called friends seem quite insulated from this pivotal aspect of their lives). The action is played out on a large triangular set (a pointer to several of the evolving relationships?), illustrating for most scenes different aspects of the '60s decor of the family home. Excellent sound and lighting effects help illustrate diverse scenes, from the strobe-lit casino to a darkened garage pulsating with the sounds of a car alarm. The cast of seven do their work well. Perhaps the best was Jean-Marc Russ as Miles, the gay surgeon, with a capacity for shifting instantly from deep pathos to comedy, using body language with great effectiveness to express his feelings. Paul Denny as Barry is a perfect ocker sexist car salesman. Rebecca Dale as Pamela made a good professional debut. (I could have done without the fairy/angel's wings she was required to wear for most of the show.) The pace seemed generally good, and there were effective instant switches between scenes. The fight scene was hilarious — well choreographed and executed: full marks to fight director Scott Witt. The quest for Fred's identity and murderer seems to become of marginal importance as the characters form and re-form interrelationships, generally with sexual outcomes, some of which are amusingly represented on stage. The humour is, as one would expect, suitably vulgar and blasphemous, yet always "politically correct". Traditional sacred cows are readily ridiculed, but not more contemporary mores (although one delicious moment is the palpable sense of shock and betrayal exuded by the group when one of their number confesses to voting Liberal). Meanwhile more social issues than you'd get in a season of Neighbours are worked into the characters' interchanges and monologues: drugtaking, unwanted pregnancy, homelessness, divorce, suicide, sexual dysfunction, contraception, homophobia, even antisemitism. Despite various successful comic and dramatic elements, the play as a whole did not sufficiently cohere. Perhaps coherence was the last of writer Beatrix Christian's intentions. Introduced early into the narrative is the concept of chaos theory (unexpectedly through the effectively plodding investigating detective, played by Joss McWilliam), which may be a good device to excuse anything that happens in the play itself. But I found it difficult to develop much sympathy for any of the characters or their largely self-inflicted dilemmas, and didn't in the end find their spin on the eternal questions particularly illuminating or moving. — John Henningham (Performance seen: 24th February 2001) Other views: For Alison Cotes (Courier-Mail, 24 Feb) the play was confusing: "seven characters in search of a play". Is it "a deeply symbolic representation of life in the suburbs", or "scrambled philosphy and theatrical dissonance": "there are some very witty scenes and an all-star cast who bring their comic-strip characters to full three-dimensional life", but "what's it all about? Don't ask me." Paul Galloway (Brisbane News, 7 March) saw Fred played as a black farce, "with dripping brush strokes of characterisation and bright splotches of emotionalism", but suggests that the play "is subtler than the playing", and "all sorts of delicacies are trampled underfoot". Katherine Lyall-Watson (Time Off, 28 Feb) felt that Fred "should be really funny, but somehow it falls a little flat" — "perhaps because it's difficult to relate to or care about essentially selfish characters" who "don't touch you in any way": "the feeling is sitcom", with "snappy one-liners and gags, but the relationships never really gel." Svetlana in Slingbacks (La Boite Theatre, March 1-24, 2001) When a theatre has a well-oiled publicity machine, it's impossible to go to a play without some preconceptions about what you're going to see. So, by the time I sat down to Svetlana, or Sveta, as she's called by her family, I was fully expecting to see a black comedic reprisal of my own experiences as a migrant in post-war Australia. What I got was a variation on the much darker theme of A Long Day's Journey into Night : the collapse of a family around the disintegration of a mother. In Svetlana, the tragedy is madness rather than drugs, and the cause has not come from within the home, but from a vulnerable woman's capitulation to the after-effects of living through the devastation of the war in Europe as a Russian Jew. This history provides a context for the Fretlov family, and there are occasional excursions into the contrasting outside world of 1960s suburban Australia in which they are now living. Most of the action of the play, however, is focussed on what happens within the home over a few critical days. The eat-in kitchen is at the heart, and heat, of the conflicts that flare up between the various members of the family. And Kate Stewart's stage setting, while simple, is very effective in conveying the claustrophobia of a poor migrant family whose dreams provide an occasional escape from unbearable realities. While the subject matter is bleak, it does come with a comic overlay, and the preview audience found plenty to laugh at in some of the snappy confrontations between the main characters. This is very much an ensemble piece, with strong roles for each of the actors as they represent a complex set of relationships. Gabriella Di Labio gives Ludmilla, the mother, a faded glamour that helps to account for her chequered history, and an edgy hysteria that makes her exasperated husband's final decision at least understandable. As played by Michael Futcher, he has some good moments, particularly in a moving scene with his brother. At other times, however, his character had less definition, and seemed to serve more to explain than to dramatise elements of the plot. And, as the character who sets the scene for the play, his introductory song — presented as he danced around the stage of this theatre-in-the-round — was at times difficult to hear: a definite drawback when its purpose was to lead in to the events to come. This play uses the device of an adult actor, Katrina Devery, in the role of twelve-year-old Sveta, who is the central character; and in her Director's Note, Therese Collie suggests that this is to provide yet another dimension to the play, as a reworking of memories by "the middle-aged Sveta of 2001". This is useful to know, but I'm not quite sure that it works in this production. Devery brings a lot of power and energy to her role, but her maturity prevents her from fitting comfortably into the shoes of a vulnerable child who wants to escape to the stars. As her half sister, Sonya, Melinda Butel is a peppy contrast who really does seem to have come from another planet to the rest of her family. She also gets to do a couple of the more jarring scenes that don't seem to fit in with the rest of the play. James Stewart had a lot of fun playing everybody else, from a schoolboy to the Man in Black. He did them all well, with verve, and was able to give each of his characters distinctive differences that made them interesting in their own right. Cigarettes and music also played important roles in setting the scene for the swinging '60s. All the cast members called upon to sing did so capably, and — as the sign in the lobby declaimed — while smoking is not condoned by the theatre, it is an integral part of the play (and was performed in the ways that I remember it from those pre-cancer conscious days). Essentially, however, what playwright Valentina Levkowicz has given us here is a '60s setting for a raw, if somewhat uneven, drama around the universal theme of family life, drawing on the tensions that can be sparked by any one of a number of possible reasons, and compounded to devastating effect when one member falls prey to mental illness. — Anne Ring
(Performance seen: 28th February 2001 [prev]) Other views: Martin Buzacott (Australian, 5 March) described this as a "brilliant first play": "A wider audience surely awaits the laughter and anguish that run simultaneously throughout this strong production of a wonderful play." In Katherine Lyall-Watson's judgment (Time Off, 7 March), Svetlana is "gritty, raw, tragic and, surprisingly, funny", with a strong cast but some script flaws. Lyall-Watson found some confusion at times in the flash-back techniques, and considered the set cluttered. For Paul Galloway (Brisbane News, 14 Mar), Svetlana "delivers a modest slice of life rather than bleeding chunks of realism. A memory play with a theatrically impressionistic approach, its numerous colourful moments are matched by as many dull patches." Waiting for Godot (New Farm Nash Theatre, March 1-24, 2001) Nash Theatre continues its tradition of fine community theatre in Brisbane, with a production of Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot launching its 2001 season. This is a well put together piece of theatre, with all the necessities of a good production — competent acting, direction and design. However, without some knowledge of the play or of absurdist theatre themes, the long running time could be a drawback for some audiences. The play, one of the best known works of absurdism, centres around the waiting by the two main characters Vladimir (Steve Martin) and Estragon (Wes Buchanan) for the mysterious Godot. They are not sure why they wait, but they know it will be worthwhile. Day in and day out they wait. Will Godot ever arrive? As the play develops it becomes clear that not only the characters but also the audience are "waiting for Godot". Nash Theatre's production is commendable in its technical aspects. The casting is solid, although the actors are somewhat younger than Beckett imagined the characters to be. However, with a dearth of older male actors in community theatre, this is not unusual, nor is it detrimental to the play. Martin and Buchanan inject the right mix of comedy and tragedy into their characters to give an accurate sense of both the frustration and hope "Didi" and "Gogo" feel while waiting for Godot. Essentially clownish characters, Martin plays more the straight man to Buchanan's rogue, and both use underlying sexual tension to pass the time. The other characters, Pozzo and his servant Lucky, are played with skill by Paul Boughen and Justin Palazzo-Orr. For most of his stage time Lucky stands half-asleep holding Pozzo's bags, and Palazzo-Orr should be commended for his commitment to character. Lucky's one speech was delivered well, and fulfilled its role as a break from the conversation of Vladimir, Estragon and Pozzo. Paul Boughen as Pozzo also performs well, and makes a suitable transition from a pompous and self-satisfied master in Act 1 to a blind and helpless old man in Act 2. The only hazy thing was his accent — Pozzo started off vaguely Italian-sounding, an accent that had disappeared by the play's close. Michael Schiffke also performs well in the possibly thankless role of the boy messenger. The set, sparse except for some leaves and a tree, gives a suitable feeling of isolation, especially with an endless blue sky as a backdrop. Director Jennifer Boyle has used the Nash stage efficiently: it still feels empty regardless of how many are on stage. With a running time of just over two and a half hours (not counting intermission), this production of Waiting for Godot is not for the faint-hearted. With a very long first act, I found I was not only waiting for Godot, but waiting for interval. While many would consider editing Beckett akin to religious sacrilege, there is still a potential problem with its length. If cuts are not an option, director Boyle should ensure her actors maintain a brisk pace to keep the audience from losing interest in the characters. Overall, Nash Theatre's production of Waiting for Godot is a testament to the company's commitment to presenting classic pieces for a modern audience. While Beckett's style is not to everyone's taste, those who do enjoy absurdism and less mainstream theatre should enjoy. — Natalie Bochenski
(Performance seen: 1st March 2001 Other views: For Jo Walker (Scene Magazine, 7 March) it was a production "lacking in vitality": "having cast such young actors into (sic) the two main roles, I was left wondering why Beckett's humour wasn't drawn out more, especially since the production notes cite his connection with the comic legacies of Laurel and Hardy and Charlie Chaplin." Buddy: The Musical (Lyric Theatre, Feb 24 - March 17, 2001) While it has become a cliche that dying young is a good career move for an entertainer, Buddy Holly was without doubt an original and very talented performer whose loss to popular music was immense. Buddy: The Musical magnificently captures the essence of Holly's music and personality in a throbbing, vibrant show that no-one could fail to enjoy. Craig Urbani is brilliant as Buddy Holly, radiating creativity, youthful energy, irreverence and cheerful optimism in equal measures as he vibrates his way through more than two hours of absorbing entertainment. Almost never off the stage, Urbani's energy levels rise and rise as the show rolls along, ending with mind-boggling gymnastics and back-to-front guitar playing as he whips his audience into a delighted frenzy. The Lyric Theatre's well-oiled stage machinery hums in top gear to conjure up a dizzying array of scene and set changes — back and forth from radio studios to recording studios to concert platforms, hotels, business offices, apartments. Flashing neon signage, advertising posters and radio jingles remind us of the commercial underpinnings of the pop music industry. This is not a musical in the traditional sense, where musical lines substitute for spoken dialogue and play a vital part in plot and character development. The music of Buddy is entirely that of the songs, mostly Holly's, but with other musical styles including country & western and gospel to provide a contrast. It is amusing at the first appearance of Buddy Holly and the Crickets to see them described as a "country and western trio". (And it is startling to reflect on how innocent and essentially wholesome was the form of rock'n'roll popularised by Holly and his contemporaries, given the fierce opposition and resentment it sparked among the older generation. Will today's teenage music seem similarly benign in 40 years?) The nature of the show obviously limits the musicians' freedom to develop their own versions of the late '50s music: their job is to replicate, not reinterpret,and for the most part they do this very well indeed, with the music virtually indistinguishable from the originals. Solos, small groups and big bands all sound superb. And there's no shortage of it. Alan Janes' script is fairly ordinary — it would be orphaned without the music — but serves the purpose of the show. As is usual when biography is dramatised, actual events are condensed and amalgamated to simplify the telling. But absent are the darker and more seedy elements of the story as revealed by recent biographies. Even the historic grottiness and misery of that last tour are whitewashed. The characters are for the most part one-dimensional, the actors generally doing as well they can with the material. Some stand-outs are Garry Scale as master of ceremonies at the Clearlake gig, interacting with the Lyric Theatre audience who are all persuaded to act as residents of different U.S. regions, and Melvin Carroll as MC of the Harlem band, Apollo. The first act is given over entirely to the public Buddy Holly or to Buddy at work, with every scene involving performance or recording studios. To emerge clearly is Buddy's integrity and confidence in his art. He refuses to acquiesce into the country & western genre, as demanded by his first manager and recording studio. He refuses to change his appearance, scoffing at the suggestion that he perform without glasses. "You've got as much sex appeal as a telegraph pole," says his frustrated manager. His belief in his own talent and his obvious success in developing a musical style appealing to young audiences, quickly win over radio stations and recording studios. He even confronts and overcomes racial prejudice in Harlem. And it is fascinating to see the representation of Buddy's quest for novelty and excellence in his sound, and the creative combination of performer and recording engineer. I liked the scene where he discovers a celeste (an instrument whose last hit was the "Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy") and combines the sound with drummer Jerry Allison slapping his knees to produce the delightful "Everyday". Later in the show, Buddy's beautiful ballad to his bride foretells the gentler Lennon-McCartney numbers. In the early scenes of the second act the personal side of Buddy's life takes over, with his whirlwind romancing of Maria Elena Santiago after his move to New York. And we see cracks developing in Buddy's working relationships, resulting in the split between Buddy and the Crickets, as well as the rift with his manager. But the beat is definitely up. While it would have been a forgivable and indeed expected development for the show to end in tears, the audience is left happy rather than sad, revelling in what Holly achieved rather than mourning his loss. It is rather eery for the audience to find that we have been transformed into the mid-west dance party audience of Buddy Holly, the Big Boppa and Ritchie Valens (great performances from Elliott Weston and Ricky Rojas) for their last performance on that wintry night in Clear Lake, Iowa on 2nd February, 1959. While blizzards rage outside and we're warned about driving home safely, Holly and his buddies fill the air with warmth and goodwill. — John Henningham
Performance seen: 4th March 2001 (6pm)
Other views: Paul Galloway (Brisbane News, 7 March), found an "infectious vitality, raucous and celebratory", Holly "embodying both the excitement and the ephemerality of Fifties youth culture". Galloway had difficulty with Urbani in the role: instead of the "Buddy of popular imagination, gawky and bespectacled, we have the tall, muscular and pretty Craig Urbani" — more like Clark Kent than Buddy Holly. Des Partridge (Courier- Mail, 26 Feb) praised the "uncanny recreation of the Holly sound", the 34 songs in the show providing "a musical feast for the faithful fans, and the show has been made even bouncier this time around. ... Buddy has pumped life back into the Lyric Theatre, which has been empty for too long." Lucinda Shaw (Time Off, 7 March) considered Buddy "fun, safe, mainstream entertainment that has understandably enjoyed worldwide success": while there "might be some holes in the show" for die-hard Holly fans, "the integrity of Urbani in the key role and the ability of most of the supporting actors/band is antidote enough". The Merchant of Venice (Arts Theatre, March 2-24, 2001) There is always apprehension when approaching a Shakespearean show such as this one. There is always the question of why? Why present another version of The Merchant of Venice? Does the Brisbane Arts Theatre present The Merchant of Venice to highlight the universal themes of cultural and religious prejudice? Perhaps, there is certainly evidence for this motivation when considering the carefully concocted scene between Portia (Samantha Rice) and the Prince of Morocco (Sven Ray) and the highly energised performance of Shylock (Ron Finney). These characters have an underbelly of disgust and self-righteousness that oozes with social prejudice. However in the entirety of the play these scenes get lost in the silliness of Commedia and singing scenes. So maybe director Paul Sherman is merely attempting to entertain his audience? He has included songs that break the fourth wall of proscenium arch stage and encourage the audience to sing and clap along. There is also the heavily physicalised characterisation of Launcelot (Scott Drummond) who skips and hops around the stage. Commedia scenes are also included that intend to make the on- stage characters laugh along with the audience. This does not seem to be Sherman's point either as he has skimped on the preparation and placement of these entertaining elements. While many of the songs are filled with energy, others are poorly prepared, and therefore, forget the context in which they are sung. A repeated scenario that served to detract from both the drama and the comedy of the play, was the foregrounding of a serious scene, punctuated by a ‘Three Stooges’ routine in the background. So then it seems that Sherman's aim is to present a multi-faceted piece — going between the extremes of comedy and drama. To do this he requires precision and it is here he fails. Take design as a case and point. There are lovely moments of lighting; particularly the conclusion of Act 1 when the stage is engulfed by a wash of red that catches on the natural cloth background and makes the stage glow, but the lighting is too often dormant, disappearing for nearly the whole of the first act. The same applies to costuming. Portia is beautifully clothed but the general chorus is clothed haphazardly — a disparity that the audience can not fathom. There are extremes of good elements that unfortunately act to highlight the lesser elements. The Brisbane Arts Theatre version of this play unfortunately suffers from too many angles and not enough clarity. Theatre audiences can be very forgiving when productions have clearly desired results. When a show has many elements that are not fully attempted and these elements sometimes hit and sometimes miss, the audience ultimately leaves the theatre asking why did we need to see another version of The Merchant of Venice? — Conan Dunning
Performance seen: 7th March 2001
Other views: The Courier-Mail's Alison Cotes (8th March), is "the last person to suffer amateur productions of Shakespeare in silence, but overall this is one of the better ones, because it makes sense of a difficult plot and has an outstanding Shylock (on whose ability the play stands or falls) in Finney." Kate Byrne (Scene Magazine, 7 March) found a "skillful collaboration of theatrical skills all round". Brilliant Lies (Centenary Theatre Group, March 10 - April 1, 2001) Watching Centenary Theatre's production of David Williamson's "Brilliant Lies" — the plot of which revolves around a sexual harassment suit — my mind was drawn by the parallel to the witchhunts of early modern Europe. At first glance it seems unusual, but there is a common theme. In those days, a supposed witch's fate often rested on the "my word against yours" testimony of the alleged victim. With no witnesses present, it could neither be proven or disproven that the "witch" really was guilty. Many innocent people lost their lives because of the motives of unscrupulous "victims". Hence the parallel to "Brilliant Lies". Susy (Brigette Abela) takes up a case of sexual harassment against her former boss Gary (Graham Thomas). As her lawyer Marion (Jenny Kirby) says, it sounds like a clear cut case. But, of course, there wouldn't be a play if it was. There are no witnesses, so it is very much a case of "my word against yours". Gary may be sleazy, but Susy is hardly a saint. A nightclubbing party girl, she dresses in clothes any grandmother would describe as "inappropriate", and employs language that would make a sailor blush. And as her moralistic, born-again Christian brother Paul (excellently played by Peter Luxton) says, "She tells brilliant lies". Williamson deliberately leaves the truth behind this event blurred. The audience is led to believe Susy to begin with, then to openly distrust her, then feel some sort of sympathy by the play's end. Perceptions of Gary follow similar trends. We are ready to believe him as the lying, abusive, bastard boss and hate him as such. He certainly wins no friends with his treatment of women, and later, of his colleague Vince (Hugh Buckham). However, he is as much victim as Susy is, and we are left feeling mainly pity for him. The subplot involves that of Susy, Paul, their proudly feminist sister Katy (Bianca Cole) and their relationship with their alcoholic bankrupt father Brian (Rod Felsch). They used to be a rich family, but Brian lost it all on incorrect stock market predictions. Now penniless and with a heart condition, he disapproves of Katy's lesbiansim, Paul's Christianity and Susy's greed. However he was no angel himself, and much of Act 2 concerns Susy and Katy trying to reconcile their troubled childhood. The play is well-cast and the actors seem to relish playing their well-drawn roles. Particularly good were Bianca Cole as Katy, whose efficient feminism makes her all the more likeable a character; Rod Felsch as the weary but cheery Brian; and Peter Luxton as Paul, the Christian comic relief, whose moral insistence somehow makes him more a part of the dysfunctional family. Graham Thomas and Hugh Buckham as Gary and Vince give good performances. They are initially allies, but Vince's confusion soon turns into belief in Gary's guilt, and Buckman plays the unwitting player nicely. Thomas, who also directed the play, plays Gary as both sleazy and suffering. The set and the lighting design were well-suited to the Chelmer Community Centre. The stage was divided in three to represent Katy and Susy's flat, Marion's office and the foyer of Gary and Vince's business. The foyer was not used as often as the other two areas, but it suited the play to have it there for balance. It also disposed of the problem of messy set changes. The cast dealt well with numerous costume changes, especially Abela, who as Susy had to be in all manner of outfits (only some tight and revealing). The pace was brisk, and all lines were snappy and well delivered. It moved along nicely, running to just over two hours, including interval. Overall, Centenary Players has produced a faithful adaptation of Williamson's play, one that leaves you thinking about the lines where truth and lies blur. Or, if you're a lonely critic, of witchhunts in Europe 400 years ago. — Natalie Bochenski
Performance seen: 10th March 2001
In Camera (Arts Theatre, March 5-20, 2001) Arts Theatre's early-week policy of rarely-seen revivals and experimentation is admirable. Its current offering, Sartre's In Camera is known also as "No Exit" and "Hois Clos" ("Vicious Circle"). First presented in France in 1944 and in America in 1946 it is, by whatever title, a dark and unrelenting piece of psycho-philosophical drama. Sartre is recognised as one of the two leading French exponents of the philosophy of existentialism (the other being Marcel, who coined the term). Existentialism is defined in one dictionary as "a group of doctrines, some theistic, some atheistic ... which stress the importance of existence as such, and the freedom and responsibility of the finite human being". According to the Oxford Companion to Philosophy, "Sartre ... explicitly presents existentialism as an ethical doctrine ... (adopting the position that) the role of choice in human life is absolutely fundamental." Sartre sets In Camera in hell — not the hell of "racks and red hot pincers" but, for his trio of central characters, a sleepless eternity in a windowless room, perpetually lit, furnished Second Empire and devoid of mirrors. Here each must endeavour to come to terms with the critical life choices which brought them to this room and into the eternal company of each other in the first place. Garcin is a journalist and purported pacifist who treated his wife abominably and died a jibbering coward in front of a firing squad. Inez is a plain post-office clerk, cruel and determined, gassed by her lesbian lover after their relationship caused the suicide of the lover's male partner. Estelle is a promiscuous socialite acquaintance of the "Dubois-Seymours" who married an older man for security and fell pregnant to a pauper who danced the tango divinely and blew his brains out when she drowned their new-born child in a Swiss lake. Inexorably they reveal these underlying truths to each other and as their connections with their former lives sever and fade, realise they can only come to terms with their "life choices" through the relationships they can establish within the room. But Inez needs Estelle. Estelle needs Garcin. And Garcin cannot find the solace he needs in either of them. "Hell is other people." There is nothing to admire in any of these characters. They deserve to be in hell. We cannot sympathise with them or their situation. They present us with the "dark side" of ourselves and our relationships. If the play is to work it must do so through our appreciation of the skill of the production and the ensemble talents of the actors. These needs are magnified by a dated and tending-to-melodrama structure and translation, peppered with phrases of the 1940s such as "You do look a dope my dear" and "Don't be such a humbug"). Regrettably the production plays into these pitfalls. The patterns of movement from the first scene resulted in the upstaging of dominant characters at critical times. They were too often too static for too long and gave no sense of the "vicious circle" in which the characters are trapped and move. Movement was too often staccato-and-stop and lacked nature's motivation and drama's purpose. With all characters required to deliver major soliloquies, a much higher degree of orchestration than was achieved was required to avoid the melodramatic quicksands. Of the major characters, neither Jude Eakin (Garcin) nor Tanya Schneider (Estelle) realised the variety and emotional potential that each of their characters offered individually and through the ensemble trio. It was difficult to believe Garcin's inner despair or Estelle's sexual desperation before they finally decide it's time to get on with never getting on. However Sandra Harman as Inez came closest to capturing the spirit of Sartre's hell and the consequences of decisions made that cannot be redeemed. Her performance was marked by maturity and vocal strength. And Susan O'Toole delivered a wryly believable valet. — Ron Finney
Performance seen: 12th March 2001
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Sleeping Beauty (Arts Theatre, February 10-March 24, 2001) So it’s not high art and the song-and-dance routines sometimes rely more on enthusiasm than on professional polish — but hey! It’s The Sleeping Beauty, not Hamlet. It’s fun and it’s silly, and that’s why it works. Fairytales have traditionally been popular fare in children’s theatre, and with good reason. Brisbane Children’s Arts Theatre’s latest production of The Sleeping Beauty has played to sell-out audiences. Full of fun and silliness, the kids love it and that’s what this kind of production is all about. Over-the-top characters, audience interaction and general silliness are at the centre of this show — a sure sign that director Sally Daly understands what her young audience wants and can deliver. The best evidence of this must come from the overwhelming responses from the audience, who sang, clapped, screamed and cheered their way through the first act, were reluctant to leave the theatre at Interval and impatient to go back in to do it all again. Enthusiasm tends to rate higher than skill, but the occasional wobbly singing voice or awkward dance step can be overlooked for the fact that it’s the enthusiasm, not the singing, that makes the production work. The same can be said for set and props which are colourful, if modest — but again, secondary to the fun and games created by the energetic cast. The storyline follows the well-known traditional fairytale with a few humorous changes and additional characters who add to the fun. When King Robert (John Hills) and Queen Cynthia (played obnoxiously well by Bianca Peltola) fail to invite bad fairy Maultash (Shane Daly) to Princess Rose’s christening, the fairy casts a spell to kill the princess on her 16th birthday. Fortunately for the King and Queen, the three good fairies, Blanche (Susan O’Toole), Glynis (Natalie Mead) and Roxy (Francesca Gasteen), are on hand to save the day. Standout performances came from the perfectly measured performance of cross-dressing John Stibbard as Nurse Hallowpenny and from Francesca Gasteen whose gorgeous singing voice and endearingly goofy Roxy soon made her a favourite with the kids. Two equally solid performances were given by the young romantic leads Princess Rose (Bree Hawkins) and Crispin/Prince Claude (Al Brennan), who not only worked well together but also proved competent individually as well. And consistently entertaining as an ensemble are the three good fairies, Blanche, Glynis and Roxy, whose frequent asides to the audience — in traditional over-the-top panto fashion — ensured that the attention of the young audience was always cheerfully engaged. While John Stibbard’s turn as Nurse Hallowpenny was an immediate hit with the audience, the cross-dressing approach seemed not to work as well for villainous fairy Maultash (Shane Daly) who failed to inspire any significant response from the audience until well into the second act. The attempt at humour, casting a male in a female role, may have confused people, who were unsure whether to laugh or to respond with the traditional boo and hiss. Productions such as this offer valuable and enjoyable opportunities for introducing children to the world of theatre, in a time where sitting in a movie cinema for an hour-and-a-half is as close to the theatre experience as most kids get. The key factor in the success of any kind of children’s production will always lie in its ability to entertain, not educate, and if the smiling faces of the hundred or so children leaving the Arts Theatre are anything to go by, then this production must surely be judged a success. — Jasmine Green
Performance seen: 3rd March 2001
Goin' to the Island (Kooemba Jdarra, March 15-24, 2001) This return season of the indigenous performing arts group Kooemba Jdarra's Goin' to the Island is a welcome addition to the current Brisbane theatre scene. The warm applause from the opening night audience showed a keen appreciation of the performance and its significance. The production is far from flawless but it is satisfying and rewarding: overall it is an enjoyable and insightful evening of theatre. The play centres around the reluctant return to Minjerribah (Stradbroke Island) of TJ for his 21st birthday party. During a weekend with his extended family TJ comes to a better and more forgiving understanding of himself, his family and his people's traditions. Island incorporates song, dance and various visual and sound effects to conjure up different facets of Minjerribah and of the Australian mainland as the family's stories are told. Flashbacks illustrate experiences and interrelationships between the group as they move towards a present day reconciliation. Therese Collie's script tells the tale clearly and concisely, with believable dialogue and characterisation, drawing effectively on local oral histories. Interracial issues are handled sensitively and in a non-confrontational way. Through subtle exploration of issues, the complexities in different people's and groups' perceptions are brought out. A theme of shared humanity emerges, and reconciliation seems but a handshake away. Director Nadine McDonald brings the script to life on stage with her cast of five. The use of devices such as flashbacks and multiple roles is often a recipe for confusion and ambiguity. In this production, however, they work well. As do the cast. They bounce off each other and make a good team. Their ensemble singing and performing is excellent. William Barton strums a fine acoustic guitar, while Rochelle Watson's soaring gospel-trained voice gives a nice added dimension to the group work. Most of the solo singing from the cast is, however, fairly ordinary. The acting is of variable quality, some of it not quite convincing. Kirk Page as TJ does a good job in presenting the restless michievousness of the young man, communicating his pain at his broken family and his difficulties in relating to his mother. He doesn't represent his (late) grandfather when playing that part quite so well. By contrast Laurence Clifford as TJ's uncle and cousin is splendid at taking on different persona. His knockabout island fisherman is very well captured, and in a most amusing scene he plays himself as a toddler on the beach, illicitly learning "the lingo" from his dad. For a few seconds also he is transformed into a very pukka superintendent chappie. Excellent in depicting TJ's grandmother and kid sister is Roxanne McDonald. Her instant transformations across the generations are lively and convincing. She is as believable as the wise and feisty granny trying to reconcile TJ with his mother as she is as the early-teen kid sister trying to impress her brother. And the scene where she reenacts her courtship with the inland fella, Charlie, is absolutely delightful. The many scene changes work well, with backdrops used as slide projector screens (let's hope they fix the wobble in one of the projectors) and converting into the island car ferry's huge ramp or into a corrugated iron house. Sounds of splashing waves and island tourists' voices, as well as the jetty, the nets, the oyster leases, crabs and the sandy surrounds of the island itself make us feel we are on Stradbroke — or Minjerribah, as I feel I want to call it from now on. — John Henningham
Performance seen: 15th March 2001
Other views: Alison Cotes (Courier-Mail, 17 Mar) described this as "a very good play, which raises the question of reconciliation into a new dimension. There has to be harmony within cultures as well as between them". The "triumph" of Collie's play is that "it avoids stereotypes about Murri culture and comes up with no easy sentimental answers". A Midsummer Night's Dream (Queensland Ballet, March 15-31, 2001) By chance, I have been reading through A Midsummer Night's Dream with a somewhat reluctant school-age daughter as part of my one-parent-versus-the-world campaign to redress the neglect of Shakespeare in schools. So this was the ideal opportunity to look at a dance version of the play, together with daughter. And what an opportunity it turned out to be. This is an absolutely stunning production, which I can happily recommend to anyone who likes ballet or who likes a good show of any kind. The approach taken is to represent the events in the Athenian woods as the dream of Hippolyta, whom we meet in the first scene as she prepares for her wedding. Then, Wizard of Oz style, she and other characters from the real world become key figures in the fairy kingdom ruling the woods. They become her dream. It's a device that works well, allowing all sorts of interesting exploration of character and people's hidden yearnings. The show opens in Athens, at the ducal palace, where preparations are underway for Hippolyta's wedding to Theseus. The set is dominated by the largest full moon imaginable. The royal couple dance with aristocratic formality, the duke conducting business of state in the midst of paying his respects to his bride-to-be. But he hints at deeper feelings by having his servant deliver a red hibiscus-like flower to Hippolyta, which she treasures and is to become the source of the love potion in her dream. The presentation of the fairy world is original and stunning. Lit by that amazing moon which dominated the Athenian court, but with kaleidoscopic flashes of color, the woods consist of fascinating vines and creepers suggesting a rainforest or a centuries-old banyan tree, centring on a huge tree stump which serves many purposes in giving upstage dancers height and camouflage. The leaf-clad sprites of various shapes and forms are far from the benign "fairies at the bottom of the garden" of more recent popular imagination: in their appearance and dances they radiate a complex sense of mystery, mischief, menace and, we must admit, an earthy attraction. Certainly in Hippolyta's dream, where she become Titania, Queen of the Fairies, we see a different person from the courtly lady of Athens, as she explores her desires and longings, and also a determination not to be overpowered by the Fairy King, Oberon. A very clever technique is the representation of time warps. On occasion, as the human characters move in slow-motion pace across the stage, the fairies dance around them, indicating that the two species are in different dimensions. The funniest application of this is a cat fight between the two women (over their menfolk): their slow-motion kicks and scratches as they get tangled up between themselves and the men make for a most effective sequence. Having long been a fan of Mendelssohn's charming incidental music to the play, I had some misgivings when hearing that a range of musical types would be included. Indeed, it seemed that not all the original music was used, and not in the usual order. It is supplemented by extracts from Mendelssohn symphonies. But the 20th Century American music used by Klaus is perfect. An adaptation of contemporary composer Steve Reich's 1976 "minimalist" work "Music for 18 musicians", with its repetitive, hypnotic rhythms, fits perfectly with the eery forest setting, while Charles Ives' 1908 "Unanswered question" provides a more timeless feeling of enchantment. One of the joys of Shakespeare's play is that in addition to the romantic twists and turns between the blighted four, plus the fairy king and queen's rivalry and Puck's mischief, there is a very entertaining subplot involving the "mechanicals" — the Athenian tradesmen who have decided to prepare a short play to perform at the Duke's wedding. Their antics allow for much poking of fun by Shakespeare at various styles of acting and rehearsing. Klaus and his dancers have rendered the "low comedy" of the mechanicals' scenes into highly comical dance sequences. Slightly tinkering with the original by making Nick Bottom rather than Quince the director of the group as well as its chief clown and victim, they produce routines which send up not only conventions of theatre, but also of dance. The group's attempts to teach one of their number (who must perform as tragic heroine Thisbe in their play) how to be a ballerina, including the techniques of pointe, is very amusing, and Thisbe/Flute is delightfully danced by Richard Chapman. Similarly very entertaining is all the carry-on of the performed play, with a hilarious climax when the characters representing lion, moon and wall break into a can-can behind the death throes of the doomed lovers. The star of the mechanicals is Paul Boyd as Bottom, who splendidly captures his frustrations in trying to direct the play with his amateur group, as well as his confused attracting of a love-tricked Titania. I must say that rather than the pair of donkey ears and tail approach used here I prefer the traditional "re-capitation" of Bottom with an ass's head, in order to accentuate the incongruity of Titania's passion (after all, many a fine girl has fallen for a chap with long ears), but concede that we'd thereby have missed the wonderfully expressive face of Boyd. (And throughout this ballet, facial expressions as well as mimed conversations between characters on the fringes of the action, play an important part. These dancers act well.) The most fascinating aspect of the mechanicals' sequences is that they provide their own music. One doesn't quite expect to have an actual musical instrument on stage during a ballet, but here we have a piano accordionist belting out popular ditties while being pushed and pulled around on a wooden cart on wheels (the cart also serving to carry the would-be actors' costumes and props). It works very well, and earns a great reaction from the audience. Accordionist Tanya Keating patiently endures the antics around her while playing with great verve, although I would have preferred the melodies to have been played from memory so that she could have seemed more a participant in the activities, rather than reading sheet music. With such a talented troupe it is very hard to single out favorites. All eight (!) of the principals are splendid, and there is much good work from the large corps, with many opportunities for individuality in the midst of group work. Of the principals, Michael Braun as Puck (and, in non-dream mode, the duke's servant) is admirable. He represents charm, mischief and merry-making as he weaves in and out of the lovers' lives with some fantastic dancing. Rachael Walsh and Anthony Lewis are a magnificent couple as Titania and Oberon in the fairy world, and as Hippolyta and Theseus on terra firma. Their interactions and differing relationship are danced with grace and confidence throughout. David Semple does a wonderful job as Demetrius in first fobbing off (firmly but politely) and then passionately wooing Helena, while Hayley Farr as Hermia is an enchanting sweetheart (and effective woman betrayed) to Tama Barry's confident Lysander. I was glad to see Kimberley Davis as Helena (she dances Titania some nights). The way she captured that poor love-lorn and confused girl was absolutely perfect. First she is in pursuit of the hapless Demetrius, who is totally without interest in her, having fallen for Lysander's gal Hermia. Clinging to him, letting him walk all over her, even at one stage leaping onto his back, she never gives in. Then, because of a recklessly careless mistake by Puck in anointing the love potion, she finds herself attracting the full-on attentions of the wrong chap, Lysander, and then, again thanks to Puck's work, being pursued simultaneously by both young men. The way she portrays the shift of feelings from "what's going on you guys/ stop pretending that you like me/ 'cos I know you're only laughing at me" to "shucks guys/ I think you might be serious/ what the hell/ I'm going with this" is just perfect. As a whole, the choreography works in what surely must be one of its major aims — telling the story. One should be able to understand a ballet without reference to the plot synopsis, and by that test, this is A1. It wasn't entirely clear at first that Titania and Oberon were at loggerheads, and perhaps I missed Puck's decision to transform Bottom, but overall the narrative was very clear, which is no mean feat when handling Shakespeare. However I would recommend to those who see this ballet that they read or re-read Shakespeare's version, as the text and the dance/music enrich each other. The new Queensland Orchestra under Thomas Woods does a very good job in performing the various musical genres. Sometimes brass seemed to be at war with strings, and they didn't always get their act back together with a flourish following the long breaks caused by the on-stage accordion-accompanied antics. After all, it would be easy to lose count of the bar rests after a thousand or so of them. One can pick minor blemishes, but in all this is a show very well worth seeing. It's the sort of ballet people should see who in their past have been bored by overly-formal, convention-ridden productions of classical ballet. I found it riveting and satisfying from beginning to end. As for the teenage daughter, she was enchanted. — John Henningham
Performance seen: 20th March 2001
Other views: Olivia Stewart (Courier-Mail, 17 Mar) saw the production's strength in the performance of its leads, "who effectively capture the spirit of their characters": "The best exchanges are fresh and lively, perfectly capturing the intended mood and sensibility. However, overall Klaus's choreography serves well to illustrate the work's key relationships without being particularly memorable." Barbara Hebden (Sunday Mail, 18 March) found "a bold and imaginative restatement of Shakespeare which juggles many elements, sometimes precariously, but always with an understanding of character and a touch of magic". |
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