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Cinderella (La Cenerentola)
Opera Queensland
Rossini's Cinderella cannot be said to be grand opera, but Opera
Queensland's production is definitely great entertainment, at every level.
Under the assured direction of Roger Hodgman, we can see why it was such a
popular piece at the time it was first performed, when it was far more
enthusiastically received than Rossini's earlier work, the Barber of
Seville. However, fashions change — or, perhaps, it is more to do
with the distinction that journalist Jon Casimir made recently, about the
variable staying power of popular music: 'there are classics, and then
there are hits'. Whatever the reason, the music of Cinderella does
not stay with you long after you've seen it, has not worn as well, and is
now not nearly as well known as the Barber.
But when fine ensemble work draws everything together as well as it does in
this production, both on and off the stage, then what you get is a
completely engaging musical romp that audiences of all ages will enjoy. The
story is one of the 500 variations on the theme of Cinderella in a
version that has several twists away from the one that we're familiar with.
Here, the Stepsisters are not ugly, just very vain, and gloriously
peacock-like in Bill Haycock's vivid costumes. And there is no Stepmother,
and no Fairy Godmother.
In fact, and somewhat curiously, this is a very masculine adaptation of the
fairy tale, with the three sisters being the only female presence, even at
the royal ball. On the other hand, in addition to the prince of course, we
have his valet (with whom he switches places for the greater part of the
show), his old tutor (and benign Machiavelli, pulling the strings of the
action), the very wicked stepfather, and an entirely male royal household
and chorus. All of which, perhaps, makes it less than surprising that —
ultimately — the plot has the super-good-wife-to-be, Cinderella, able
to recognise the no-longer-disguised-ex-valet when he is shown in his true
colours, while he only realises that the servant girl, with whom he first
falls in love, must be the mysterious guest at the ball (whom he then
becomes smitten with), by the bracelet that she is wearing when a servant
girl once more (and this is despite the 'uncanny resemblance' they have to
each other).
In opera, however, it's not the play that bears scrutiny, but the players,
and the singers. And they all perform at the upper end of the wellness
scale. At the outset, it is hard not to be mesmerised by the balletic
swoops of the hands of conductor Simon Kenway as they encourage the
orchestra towards an elegant rendering of the overture. But gradually our
eyes are drawn upwards to what proves to be an extremely versatile stage
design — by Haycock, this time wearing his set designer's hat to give
us a stylised and skewed set (that occasionally suffers from
people-overload), overlooked by a round picture window that comes
increasingly into its own to reveal key elements in the plot.
Back to the beginning of the action, however, and the two peacocks, oops,
stepsisters, parade around in a bright array of colours as they demonstrate
that they are not only not ugly, but have clear and beautiful voices as
well. Emily Whelan, as Clorinda, and Dimity Shepherd, as Tisbe, lay the
groundwork for what is essential to making this opera a success, being able
to act as well as they sing their parts. Theirs' is a highly enjoyable and
comic rendition, with plenty of acerbic flavouring to offset Cinderella's
sweetness of nature. From the simplicity of her first slight song through
the increasing complexity and richness of her character and her lusciously
rendered arias, however, Donna Balson is the indisputable musical star of
the show.
But the male cohort is also well up there on the wellness scale. In
ascending order, the prince (Don Ramiro), sung by Kanen Breen, is very
able, though somewhat light of voice at this stage of his career, but he
certainly looks and acts his part. Both the sonorous tutor (Alidoro), Ian
Cousins, and the rollicking, over-the-top stepfather and buffoon, Gary
Rowley, are extremely good, and Jason Barry-Smith as the valet Dandini is
simply excellent. The royal guard, meanwhile, and guided by chorus master
John Dingle, give solid support laced with humorous touches.
The decision to split the languages is one that some may question: while
the arias are sung in Italian with sur-titles, the often almost as
musically lyrical recitative is sung in the far less melodic sounds of
English. In the way it is performed, however, as in all the other elements
of this production, this addition to OQ's repertoire exudes the highest
standards of professionalism from every pore, and it was good to see
production staff come on stage with the cast and conductor, to take their
share of the credit for a production that is a delight to the eye as well
as the ear.
— Anne Ring
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Magazine
Cooking With
Elvis
Queensland Theatre Company
For the first few minutes of Cooking with Elvis you wonder where
it's going. And then you realise that all you've got to do is fasten your
safety belt, hang on, and go along for the ride, on a roller coaster of
emotions through some very dark places where the only part of your body
that gets a flailing is your funny bone. But don't you worry about that,
because you're in the sure hands of Lee Hall, a playwright who knows
exactly what he's doing. And, under Michael Gow's direction, the fine
ensemble cast — led by the exceptional Louise Brehmer in a stellar
performance — is one quick step ahead of you all along the line.
This is an English play, translated very effectively into the local scene,
with a script that is insightful, cynical, warm, emotional, funny, fraught
and — above all — as sharp-edged as the knife that gets brandished
in increasingly threatening ways by Brehmer, as she gets into her stride.
Brehmer sparkles as brightly as Elvis's rhinestones in her role as teenage
daughter Jill, who is not only our tour guide, but also both the core and
the fulcrum around whom the action swirls.
To someone fairly fresh from seeing La Boite's Salt, I found that
Cooking with Elvis had an added resonance. Consider the fact that
Elvis happens to be about food, cooking and gastronomy as a metaphor
for a dysfunctional relationship between a daughter who is the foodaholic
chef reigning supreme in the household kitchen that is the main setting for
the play, and a mother who is switched off from reality. Any of that sound
at all familiar? Trust me, it is. What I, as a woman, found particularly
interesting, then, is the fact that while Salt, which — readers
may recall — didn't really work for me, was written by a woman
(Australian Peta Murray), Elvis — which really did (work for me)
— was written by a man. Not to mention that Murray and Hall must have
been beavering away at their overlapping themes on opposite sides of the
globe at roughly the same time. Makes you stop and think.
Not too hard, though, because you certainly don't want any distractions
during the course of Elvis, which has far too much to capture your
attention, including a number of extra and — under the circumstances
— not surprising dimensions. There is, on the one hand, Jean-Marc Russ
as Dad, a quadriplegic ex-Elvis impersonator. Russ not only does a moving
line in random and not-so-random twitching in and around his wheel chair,
but also adds a surreal note with his remarkably effective interpretation
of the voice and pelvis of an ageing Elvis, and his progressive
disintegration — during the course of the play — into a paranoia
that is larded with some highly unpalatable views on grease and dietary
excess.
And — ultimately literally — on the other hand, there is the
extremely callow Coles Cake Supervisor, Stuart, played to slow-speaking,
dim-witted perfection by Raymond Sullivan. At the beginning, it's difficult
to see where he could go in this part, but it becomes pretty clear, pretty
quickly, that it is all the way. Led, initially, by the nose, and some
other parts of his anatomy, by Mum. Not your everyday school-marm Mum,
though, when played by the stunningly elegant Barbara Lowing whose bitter
resentment at her circumstances has her lashing out with cutting wit and
flawless timing at her daughter and anybody else in her firing line. As she
tries frankly not to give a damn about anything by drowning her sorrows in
drink and unsuitable sex, to compensate for a life destroyed by an accident
to the husband who had already been a destructive force when whole.
With all of that going on, the music itself shouldn't be overlooked. As
arranged by composer/sound designer Pete Godwin, this revisiting of the
territory of Graceland's King is nostalgia that is both shaken and stirred
with an acerbic twist. It goes well with all those X-rated bits that you
might have read about, full-frontal nudity, variations on a sexual theme,
and language. None of which, judging by the laughter throughout, and the
enthusiastic applause at the end of the play, the audience on the night
that I was there seemed to see as gratuitous or problematical. Rather, it
was all just part of a remarkably absorbing hour and three-quarters whose
flow — happily — was not interrupted by an interval.
My only quibbling footnote is that Elvis could take a leaf out of Salt's
book in terms of consistency in its use of food, as a visible part of the
play. In particular, why on earth mime the adding of chopped onions to a
pot, when every other item of food in this production is out there?
— Anne Ring
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage
Magazine
Umoja
Lyric Theatre
Umoja is sub-titled the spirit of togetherness, and that — overwhelmingly — is what it turns out to be. A foot-tapping, soul-stirring, life-affirming experience that got a richly deserved standing ovation from a first night audience that, quite simply, didn’t want to leave. What we all would have loved instead, to a person, was an invitation from the superb entertainers on stage, to join in the exuberant song and dance that had captivated us throughout a fabulous night’s entertainment.
The advance publicity came nowhere near conveying the depth and richness of this unique show. The colourful program, on the other hand, did serve as a valuable introduction to the culture and context of what we were about to see. Which was nothing less than "the story of the music of the South African people, from tribal times until to-day". Add to that the fact that most of the performers came from disadvantaged communities, with nothing to declare but their talent, and were honed by choreographer, singer and teacher, Todd Twala, into a troupe of breathtaking professionalism, and it’s not hard to see why the audience sat in a state of stunned rapture from the first, irresistible beat of the drums to the ensembled finale that recapitulated the highlights of the musical history.
In between, a cast successively garbed in a variety of striking costumes produced by designer Thembi Nyandeni, took us from the dynamic beat of tribal song and dance, forward into the various ways it has evolved during periods of extreme hardship and the influences of an increasingly multicultured society on a people who have survived it all, with heart and sense of humour intact and channelled back into their music.
A music which is underpinned by the drums that are "integral to the rhythms of Africa both in everyday life and spiritual matters". It is not only the printed program that tells us this, but the unbelievably mellifluous voice of the Narrator, who introduces us to each of the sequences in tones that reverberate with as much power as the drums themselves. Truly a voice that any politician would kill for. It hardly matters what Joseph Motsamai says — all you want to do is to hear him speak.
Until the next round of superbly synchronised dancing and choral singing and solo singers and dancers takes you into yet another vibrant stage in this musical journey through South Africa, via scenes from the Durban talent competition (with the wonderfully world weary compere, Gregory Makhubela), to the Johannesburg street scene, shebeen (or wayside tavern), mining town and hostels, gospel sounds, the club, and, finally, the finale of togetherness: Umoja. Given the time, I would list each member of the cast of gifted performers, but — again — I can recommend that informative program, which presents each of them and their stories of some very different routes to the stage.
And as this show is only on for a few days more, there is very little time to put your skates on if you want to see a performance that — in the rarely heard words of my companion — is a must-see. It takes us away from the by now well-known rhythms of Afro-American music, to its irrepressible origins, and the directions in which these have moved in their own homeland. Together, they add up to a feast of visual and aural sensations which — happily — you can choose to take a taste of with you, in a CD that that had us stomping our feet all the way home.
— Anne Ring
(Performance seen: 18th June 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
Vampire Lesbians of Sodom
Nash Theatre
Along Brunswick Street, Fortitude Valley, there's a number of
establishments that offer you the opportunity to have
a leather-g-string clad crotch thrust into your face.
My mates Simon and Steve reckon they've been to all of
them. As far as I can tell, it costs a pretty penny to
receive this service. Well, I've found a cheaper and
quite possibly more entertaining option. Further along
Brunswick Street, where the old Valley Twin used to
be, resides Nash Theatre. And if you're walking past
on a Friday or Saturday night around 11, then I highly
recommend you go into Nash, fork out just ten bucks,
and feast your eyes on "Vampire Lesbians of Sodom".
High camp, low comedy and plenty of high heels and
fabulous makeup and you've got yourself a entertaining
wind-down to the week...or even a thrilling wind-up to
a big weekend, darling.
The aforementioned leather-g-string-clad crotch
belonged to Jessica Darcey, one of the "Vampire
Lesbians" of the title (it's a literal piece, people).
She is "La Condesa", and the simple story of VLS is
her two thousand year old conflict with Madeline
Astarte (Benjamin Hampe), another one of the living
dead. It starts way back in Sodom, moves to decadent
1920s Hollywood, and winds up in legwarmers and
Olivia-Newton-John crazed 1980s Las Vegas. We learn
how these two women have lied, manipulated, and eaten
their way through 2000 years of virgins and
showbusiness.
The central performances of Darcey and Hampe are
terrific, although Hampe seems the more comfortable
onstage. There's nothing like a man in four inch
stilettos to make you feel less like a woman, but it
was gratifying to see that even Hampe wobbled on
occasion. Both actors deserve points for sheer bravado
(in Darcey's case, a sheer nightgown is more
appropriate), and their delivery is great. I'm trying
to remember some of the classic lines they came out
with, but there were so many....oh! Hampe as the
Virgin Sacrifice from Sodom screaming "Break my hymen!
Break my hymen!" to avoid being bait for the Succubus
- that was a favourite.
The other actors all add to the atmosphere, and if I
may say so, perve factor of the show. Hey, I'm just
looking. Arian King and Brent Summerton play, I guess
the term would be "straight men"...but I'm not sure
how appropriate that would be for VLS (for a number of
reasons!). Summerton played a great insane butler in
the 1920s scene, and King's delivery of 1920s movie
star King Carlyle had me in stiches. He had the whole
Indiana Jones look down, coupled with that fantastic
jaw-moving-soap-opera-star-overacting.
If you've never seen a Maori in an outrageous blonde
wig, then check out Leo Sio. His mannerisms as gossip
write cum vampire hunter Oatsie are fabulous. And
Genevieve Langbien as the "girl" of the cast stole the
show with her ingenue roles. Her rosy-cheeked
innocence was the perfect foil for the drag queen
vampire lesbians.
Criticisms? Well, it's not the most polished of
performances, but then, Rocky Horror wasn't a slick
film and it still worked.Some of the staging was
sloppy, but forgivable. I had never been to the new
Nash theatre before this, and so I observed some of
the problems associated with the space that I'm sure
the Nash team are already well aware of. The stage
must be challenging to work with, very loud on the
occasional stomping foot, and with difficult exits.
This play worked well with minimal set, but it made me
wonder how a more extravagant production would do.
The night I saw VLS I had just come from a performance
of the farce "There Goes the Bride" at the Brisbane
Arts Theatre. A good show, but a totally different
kind of comedy. Seeing VLS afterwards was a
revelation, as it was outrageously funny, full of
shlocky performances and more camp than a row of
tents. The purpose of the Late Night Nash series, says
co-ordinator and director Drew Mason, is to put on
"good cheap fun entertainment". It so totally lived up
to its ideal, darling. Now, where's my feather boa?
— Natalie Bochenski
(Performance seen: 14th June 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
Salt
La Boite
Is food — as we have been brought up to believe — the language of love, or just a language? This is the conundrum that is at the crux of Peta Murray’s play, Salt, where she uses kitchens and cooking as the launching, lunching and lunging pads for a mother and daughter coming to grips with a relationship that is more bitter than sweet.
It is exciting, and it is right, that food — which plays such a central role in family life — should be given a star turn in a play about family tensions. There is an air of expectancy from the moment you enter the theatre and see what you know is a fully functional kitchen. How is it going to work? And, of course, just as in real life, it works so naturally that if it weren’t for its novelty value you wouldn’t think twice about it as a means through which two women tell their very different stories, and try to express their feelings to — and about — each other.
It is the ways in which they do all of this that boils down to a question of taste and, specifically, how much an individual enjoys a play that is highly textured and richly — perhaps too richly — flavoured. Nouvelle cuisine this is not. Instead, we are served up such a melange of theatrical devices and crisscrossing narrative streams that we are left with what happens when the layers of an onion are peeled away: lots of tears, but very little heart.
And, it has to be said, an additional layer of confusion has been added to this production by casting — as mother Laurel and daughter Meg — two very able actresses who look a bit too close in age to be in that relationship. I hope I won’t be pilloried for saying that it actually took me a little while to be sure of who was which, not aided by the fact that more often than not they were both calling each other by nick-, pet and first names.
With the ghost of Ruth Cracknell in the wings, Judith Arthy has — of course — the more difficult part to play. As many will have read in the obituaries following the death of this national treasure, Laurel was Cracknell’s last role before falling ill. It is a moving coincidence that the Brisbane first night was on the same day as her funeral, and impossible not to imagine her in the part. It is a wonderful part for an older woman, and while Arthy makes a testily vulnerable mother, she needs to age more into the role.
And, more carping about age, Sally Mckenzie — on the other hand — appears to be perhaps a shade beyond the stage of the biological clock ticking in daughter Meg. In every other way, however, she cooks and plays up a storm as a soured woman, one who has spent her life trying to meet her unrequited emotional needs through gastronomy: that is, the art of good eating, rather than the act of compensatory eating.
Interwoven throughout the play is the treatment of food as a two-edged necessity of life, if not love. It can, equally easily, be used to nourish, or to poison. Presenting this proposition with devilish charm is the third party to the mother and daughter duo. As the man, Steve Greig gets to play not only an ironic commentator on food, but also various men in the lives of Laurel and Meg. And he makes the switches between passionate Spaniard and ocker Aussie with credible ease.
Director Michael Futcher’s production works extremely well in La Boite’s theatre-in-the-round, the shifts in time are effectively rung by Matt Scott’s lighting, and Greg Clarke can design my kitchen any time. In Salt, however, Murray uses this location to put a new spin on the face of the old kitchen-sink drama, by paring a homage on food preparation down for its insights into the way that ageing colours the needs of the needy and the dementing.
— Anne Ring
(Performance seen: 17th May 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
Richard III
QTC/Bell Shakespeare
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Watching this purposefully precious production, with its vaudevillanous title role (Bell), with Anna Volska's Queen Elizabeth done initially as a refugee from Restoration comedy and other characters capering as if infected with the Madness of King George, I felt for the first time in my life that this play, far from being a denigration of Richard, is a daring send-up by the Bard of the phony "history" of the Tudormongers.
The devout members of the Richard the Third societies, far from objecting to the play as muck-raking their hero, might well hail the play as pricking the bullshit balloons of Hall, Holinshed and (dare I say it) St Thomas More. (But we must remember that More as a youth served in the household of John Morton, then a cardinal, but Bishop of Ely in Richard's lifetime, and a strong opponent of Richard.)
More, Hall and Holinshed may well have believed the "histories" they wrote, but Shakespeare, I think, saw through the distortions. In his play he further inflated the falsehoods to such a degree that I feel he could not have expected any but the most gullible to believe them.
This production amusingly severs suspension of disbelief. Gow and designer Robert Kemp have set all the action in an improbable room reminiscent of Wuthering Heights in full siege. Even the Battle of Bosworth Field is fought in the room, with a deluded Richard calling ludicrously for his notorious horse.
If Shakespeare's aim was to subversively deconstruct the Tudors' sanctimonous smearing of Richard, this surreally staged version makes perfect sense. And against the overall absurdities, the gawking gestures and the vocal flounces, we are moved by the heartfelt poetic outpourings of such as Penny Everingham's bereaved Duchess of York and Sean O'Shea's nightmare-drowning Clarence, as well as occasional moments of trembling pity from servants and messengers, which come as welcome non-comic relief. Also, with the bitter, brooding Queen Margaret regretfully excised, it is necessary that Lady Anne should (metaphorically) grab Richard by the balls, since Margaret is not there to supply the challenge that Shakespeare (defying history) wanted. Blazey Best's full-throttle-grieving Anne even has moments of surprising Bell's "cool man" conception of Richard. While Bell's overall air of clinical detachment matches most of his text, I would have liked more internal dislocation in his handling of his non-typical speech, namely the one that follows his exposure to the ghosts of his victims (rolling in a sound-and-light whirlpool of great credit to movement director Gavin Robins).
The absence of Margaret makes it hard for Richard to snip even a smidgin of our sympathy. For she is the predominant representative of those prejudiced souls who assume that those whom they describe as physically "deformed" must be also "deformed" in character.
However my view that the play represents a send-up of the idiocies of Tudor propaganda is challenged by the sincerity of Paul Eastway's Richmond (who becomes the first Tudor king, Henry VII). Perhaps this resonant Richmond's lack of self-sanctimony owed much to the cutting of some of his most florid passages.
The overall surgery is radical. QTC patrons wary of a long night's journey down a Shakespearean Cloudstreet can breathe a sigh of relief. As with the recent Tempest, even the interval has gone. Mostly the two hours are romped through with nary a dull moment. Rarely a tender moment either, though with Sean O'Shea as Tyrrel, the poetic account of the murder of the Princes in the Tower claims our heart (despite the telegraphing from those two snowy pillows).
Cuts to the original character list cause some actors to be very busy indeed. Robert Meldrum does sterling duty for three clerics, while local lad Paul Denny blithely extends Catesby's villainy to that of others. Darren Gilshenan scores well in the difficult role of Stanley, caught in a tug-of-war between Richard and Richmond, with his son held hostage by the former.
Robert Alexander's anguished Edward IV, deprived of his customary deathbed, is a splendidly sinking ship with all distress signals flying. Lucas Stibbard and Morgan David Jones expertly image the artful innocence of youth. Christopher Stollery is a blessedly bland Buckingham and has a wicked way with a wig. David Davies has a wicked way with a bottle, which suits the soon-to-the block Hastings. Damien Ryan doubles a heavily-pressured gaoler with a mincing Mayor who deserves to get the bouquet he is so eager to give.
This isn't a play where over-the-top is a worry. But I reckon Richard might consider giving his whip the flick. The prayerbook-lifting says it all. Gow and Bell make it clear that the Richard of the play is at heart (though he denies having one) an actor-manager. Even Matt Scott's abrupt lighting changes, which manage to image some variety in the uniform set, seem variations of Richard's mannerisms, as do the pulsing music and rumbling sound patterns of Brett Collery and Peter Eades. Assistant director Scott Witt is renowned for his stage fights but with Bosworth Field moved indoors the fights are inevitably somehat "carpeted".
This bizarre Richard has an internal consistency which transcends the Bell Company's version of the same play (though it then had Margaret in it, played by Anna Volska) a decade ago. And I think that those who (like yours truly) were dismayed by the Company's Lear a few years back, will find this lesser play presented more ably than the greater one.
—
Paul Sherman
(Performance seen: 16th May 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
Cavalleria Rusticana/Pagliacci
Opera Queensland
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Brisbane's first night regulars had the agonising choice last night between the Opera Queensland double bill and the long awaited QTC/Bell production of Richard III. Those who plumped for the Lyric Theatre end of the Perfoming Arts Centre probably figured that they'd sacrifice good drama for good musical performance.
In fact, they got both. Director Andrew Sinclair's approach to the "immortal twins" is rivetting drama, superbly conceived and executed. Gone is the melodramatic approach (seemingly dictated by the texts) which often makes these two works parodies of opera.
In its place is vivid drama, realistically set and acted, to which the talents of the production team all contribute meaningfully.
Shaun Gurton's sets, Donn Byrnes' lighting and Victoria Rowell's costumes all evoke the scene of immediate post-war working class Italy (or at least that scene as we know it through cinema, which is Sinclair's intention).
The setting of Cavalleria Rusticana belies the literal meaning of Mascagni's work ("rustic chivalry") in its depiction of ghastly urban drabness — bleak dark brick walls, women dressed in the black of age or widowhood while the men are equally plain in appearance. The setting and costumes make the few flashes of colour — Lola's daffodils, a child in first-communion veil, a fleeting church procession, Turiddu's blood-spattered body — all the more vivid.
The chorus and extras are imaginatively deployed as they ebb and flow in the communal piazza, and are seen to represent all varieties of community life — young and old, pious and rogues, young men in a hurry, a good-time girl or two contrasted with elderly peasant women. And even the odd bicycle swerving through the crowd (bringing to mind Vittorio de Sica's 1948 cinema classic "Bicycle Thieves").
The success in organising a large cast of principals, chorus, children and extras must also be attributed to assistant director Cathy Dadd.
Similarly realistic are the townspeople scenes in Pagliacci as the locals gather to welcome the travelling comedians.
For both operas the work of the chorus under new chorus master John Dingle is assured and confident, with the added magic of Laurie Gaffney's Imogen Children's Chorale, and there is splendid music from the Queensland Orchestra under Richard Divall's baton. The brass elements are particularly memorable.
Of the principals, American-born Arax Mansourian sings a rich and commanding Santuzza in Cav, while also acting brilliantly the spurned girl-friend who betrays her lover to cuckolded husband Alfio.
Patrick Power gives a heartfelt Turiddu, opposed by Ian Vayne's tough and no-nonsense Alfio. (Vayne does a remarkable character switch to the hunchbacked Tonio in Pagliacci, which he carries off most convincingly.) And it is a pleasure to again see and hear veteran Brisbane contralto Margreta Elkins as Turiddu's mother Mamma Lucia.
Local Con graduate Susan Dunn sings a nicely voluptuous Lola.
In Pagliacci Georgian tenor Badri Maisuradze is absolutely magnificent as the murderously jealous Canio. In fact you'd be lucky to see a better performance in this hemisphere (acting plus singing) of the tragic clown, both in the famous "Vesti la giubba" ("On with the show") and in the opera's denouement, as the play-within-a-play degenerates into a genuine display of outrage and passion.
But I also loved Suzanne Donald's depiction of Nedda as an enslaved girl desperately seeking escape from her situation but underestimating Canio's obsession with her. She successfully captures anxiety, desperation and brief happiness while also play-acting superbly her Commedia dell'arte role as Columbine. We also get good supporting performances from Bernard Wheaton and Tim DuFore as Beppe and Silvio.
In both operas there is a pleasing consistency of focus from the principals, particularly given that this is a "travelling production" with a mixture of old and new hands among the cast.
Finally, we should thank Opera Queensland chief executive Chris Mangin for arm-twisting his interstate colleagues into agreeing to a fresh run to two operas which many would happily have consigned to history.
Vesti la giubba!
— John Henningham
(Performance seen: 16th May 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
The Norman Conquests
Mixed Company
I remember once when I was about fifteen, I set my VCR
to record a program late night on the ABC called, "The
Norman Conquests". When I got home from school the
next day, I rewound the tape, eager to watch what I
thought would be a documentary on William the
Conqueror (being the history-freak-girl that I am).
But instead of angry Frenchmen, battles at Hastings
and arrows in King Harold's eye, I found I had taped
a completely different Norman Conquest. Caught out by
the punny title, I had taped an English TV version of
Alan Ayckbourn's comedy "trilogy". Of course, I didn't
watch it — it didn't seem to be anything but a bunch
of middle-aged English people yabbering on, and I have
various London relatives who fill that role in my
life.
But fate, it would seem, had destined me to see this
play at some point, so on Thursday May 16, I found
myself at the Cement Box Theatre, parked very badly in
a very tight spot on a hill, ready to actually watch
The Norman Conquests. Well, at least one of the
three plays: "Round and Round the Garden". And, quick
capsule review, I liked it. It was fun, energetic and
well-acted. Read on now for elaboration.
Mixed Company's purpose in the Briz Vegas theatre
scene is to stage quality comedy theatre and showcase
local comedic talent. A look around the foyer before
the show and you see evidence of their body of work —
posters for Run for Your Wife, Sylvia, Ruthless:
The Musical and "he Women, to name a few. The
Norman Conquests is an excellent addition to this
catalogue. Mixed Company obviously know and cater for
their target market.
TNC is set over one weekend at a country house
somewhere in England. Annie lives their with her
mother, but she's organised a dirty weekend away with
her sister Ruth's husband Norman. So her brother Reg
and his wife Sarah arrive to look after the house.
Added to this is Tom, the local vet. He and Annie are
secretly in love with each other, but too scared to
say anything. The dirty weekend is cancelled, and
shenanigans ensue.
Confused yet? Well all you really need to know it's a
story about English people having affairs, but keeping
it in the family. "Bedroom farce" perhaps is the term.
Honestly, it doesn't say much for the Poms when every
second play about English people has them having it
off with their brother's wife, or sister's uncle, or
cousin's dog. It's a peculiarly English stiff upper
lip thing, isn't it? I mean, Italians yell and scream
and torture themselves, Aussies fight it out,
Americans sniffle and cry and psycho-analyse
themselves..but Poms? They have a stiff brandy, and
keep everything respectable. "Oh, you're having an
affair with my wife? Oh, jolly good. Would you mind
asking her where she put my sock garters?". That sort
of thing. Always the legitimate theatre. I'm sure you
wouldn't see it on Coronation Street. But look at me,
I'm getting distracted.
What the bedroom farce does, I suppose, is allow
talented actors spin beautifully written clever witty
dialogue around the room like verbal gymnasts at the
theatrical Olympics. And for that, The Norman
Conquests gets the gold medal. I did enjoy it,
despite concluding that "Keep Your Pants On England!"
is my new motto.
Brian Edmond as Norman is great to watch. He creates
a character of small stature, but big personality. His
wife Ruth describes him best as a naughty but friendly
dog, and Edmond really portrays that well. He's a
stud, and no one can really work out why. Sandra
Harman as Ruth is suitably business-as-usual,
unruffled by her husband's constant sniffing up the
wrong leg. Pauline Campton plays the sweet, likeable
Annie very well — her delivery is superb. Brad
Ashwood as Tom, Paul Careless as Reg and Dale Murison
as Sarah round out the cast, and all demonstrate
excellent character actor ability. Mixed Company not
only knows their audience, but they know their actors.
The casting was unquestionably right, and complemented
by simple yet effective set, costumes, lighting and
music.
My main hassle comes from not really being part of
Mixed Company's target audience. I only knew vaguely
that The Norman Conquests was a trilogy, and I was
unclear as to what we were seeing, as the ticket said
"Table Manners" but the set indicated "Round and Round
the Garden". Chomping on some Maltesers I wound up
asking the director, the incredibly diverse and
talented Simone de Haas, what was going on. Five
minutes and a separate flyer later, I was on my way to
understanding. The three plays all take place over the
same weekend, about the same series of events. But
while "Round and Round the Garden" shows what happened
in the garden, "Table Manners" shows what happened in
the kitchen, and "Living Together" shows what happened
in the living room. So each play stands on its own,
but you can watch all three and see the complete
story. Ahhhhh, I thought, sipping on a Lemon, Lime and
Bitters. It's all becoming clearer.
They're actually performing all THREE plays at once,
which is a testimony to Mixed Company and the actors'
abilities (if not their sanities). But the explanatory
flyer wasn't helping much either, as it indicated we
should have been seeing "Table Manners" as well! So my
main criticism is that people who aren't used to
either Mixed Company or the play itself (plays
themselves?) or are simply theatre bogans like me,
might get confused. Also, and I know this isn't Mixed
Company's fault, but the parking around the Cement Box
is terrible. My mother had to direct me through an
18-point turn just so we could get out. (Because of
the lack of space, not because of my driving skills,
thank you very much).
But technical stuff-ups really shouldn't ruin the
show, and it is a good show. If you're into
confrontational theatre, this isn't for you. It's an
inoffensive comedy, and it more than satisfied the
audience on Thursday night. (My Mum liked it too).
I'll repeat, Mixed Company knows and caters for their
target audience, and the fact they do it so
successfully is the highest compliment I could pay any
theatre company.
— Natalie Bochenski
(Performance seen: 16th May 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
The Lark
Brisbane Arts Theatre
In Jean Anouihl’s play, the lark is Joan of Arc. In the Brisbane Arts Theatre production directed by Pat Wallace, the part that soars above the rest is that of the Dauphin, as played by Timothy Wotherspoon, an actor from whom – on the basis of this performance – one can expect great things in the future. And we’ll come back to that in a minute. First of all, though, it is the play that is the thing.
And it’s many years since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing an Anouihl play, so I am grateful to the Arts Theatre for reviving The Lark. Not having seen it before, I was a little worried about a play whose denouement is the burning of a 19-year-old at the stake. I should have had more confidence in Anouihl’s style, and in his capacity to turn Joan of Arc’s story into a play of ideas rather than simply working up to an unbearable climax. Instead, he developed it into a vehicle for introducing some provocative debates on still contemporary issues, such as the power of religious institutions, and the extent of personal responsibility for one’s actions (our increasingly litigious society: please take note).
Fresh from all the publicity surrounding schizophrenia and A Beautiful Mind, it was also impossible to avoid wondering — with Joan’s matter-of-fact assertions about her visions, and the physical abuse she suffered at the hands of her father — whether what we were seeing was a case history of mental illness. And this, apparently, is an issue that has also been debated over the years, but not in this play.
Unfortunately, it is difficult to develop too much sympathy for Joan as interpreted by Judith Barbeler, whose portrayal sways between Playschool cute and Drew Barrymore waiting for ET to return. Her one moment of maturity and dignity, showing what might have been, occurs as she is meeting her fate at the stake.
There are, on the other hand, some very capable performances from among the large cast. The three clerical judges are all strongly played characters, forcefully led by Hugh Buckham as the Bishop Cauchon, in charge of the trial, and ably supported by Richard Spring as Prosecutor d’Estivet, and David Fitzgerald as the Spanish Inquisitor. Each of them has opportunities to put forward some challenging points of view, while the Earl of Warwick is well played by John Grey, as a somewhat jaded pragmatist. In contrast, Martin Blum seems somewhat flat as the sympathetic Brother Ladvenu.
Derek Haakman, a recent import from New Zealand, makes Robert de Beaudricourt an engaging buffoon, and the ladies of the court give their parts a spark (Shauna Corrigan as Queen Yolande, Alana Scott as Queen Marie, and Jessica Loudon as Agnes Sorel). But the play really comes alive when Wotherspoon comes on stage, to do wonderful things with the unexpectedly hilarious role of the weak, vacillating, wheedling, expedient Dauphin who would be King Charles VII. It is just a pity that most of what he has to do — with his highly expressive face, witty style and perfect timing — takes place in Act I.
The whole play is well served by Michael McMahon and Una Hollingworth’s minimalist set which shifts effectively between the two courts, of judgment and of the Dauphin. And the simple cross that dominates the scene at the apex of the stage is a silent commentary throughout.
Overall, this play is an excellent inclusion in the Arts Theatre’s 66th season, giving its audience a glittering performer within a sound production of a very worthwhile revival of a play from a mid-20th century, existential philosopher-playwright who deserves to be remembered.
— Anne Ring
(Performance seen: 10th May 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
Beyond 40
Ballet Blokes
Australian Ballet
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An entertaining overview of the Australian Ballet's first 40 years, Beyond 40 features splendid displays of choreographic and dance highlights intercut with historic film footage of the company's work.
Not entirely resisting the understandable urge to be self-satisfied and hagiographic, the show gives a good sample of the company's achievements and a sense of its future directions.
While 40 years may not seem so long ago, the use of film from the '60s and '70s (captions to identify some of the speakers and settings would help) illustrates how much Australian culture has changed. The very Anglo looking AB, despite proclaiming itself Australian, has morphed into a genuinely Aussie product by the time of its 40th birthday. Accents that were either English or an Australian attempt to sound English were the norm at the AB's birth, while the dancers conducted themselves with a certain primness and self-consciousness which looks somewhat comical today. (How will 2002 look in 2042 one wonders?) To an extent this style is captured in some of the re-presentations of older hits by the AB's current dancers.
The audience is treated to some cheer-rousing displays, including the magnificent "Grand Pas" from Don Quixote created by Nureyev, and danced splendidly by Nigel Burley and Rachel Rawlins. Also to attract rousing cheers is three-months pregnant former Brisbane girl Lisa Bolte dancing her own swansong (temporary, one hopes) in a Swan Lake pas de deux (choreographed by Anne Woolliams) in which she is partnered by the superb Steven Heathcote.
Also memorable is the vigorous dancing of the corps, such as in their airborne work in Ronald Hynd's choreography of the Merry Widow waltz to Lehar's music. There's the odd mishap, easily forgiven.
Contemporary styles are well represented with Stephen Page's "Alchemy",
contrasting with earlier attempts to be avante garde like the mechanistic "Checkmate" of Ninette de Valois.
But holding up well is Glen Tetley's intriguing "Gemini", danced by Rachel Rawlins and Tristan Message to challenging music by Henze.
Most entertaining is Meryl Tankard's "The Deep End", a marvellous representation of the Australian swimming (and swimsuits), where both company and audience really enjoy themselves.
The other offering of the Australian Ballet's Brisbane tour, Ballet Blokes, is a richly entertaining trio. The first, Stephen Baynes' 1990 work Catalyst, features varied and imaginative (if not really emotionally absorbing) interplay between dancers to the brilliant piano music of Poulenc. The second, the premiere of Stephen Page's one-dancer show, Totem, is dedicated to and superbly performed by Steven Heathcote.
To haunting indigenous instrumental and voice music by David Page and Steve Francis, it involves stages in a life's passage. Heathcote's anchoring of his body in the earth and his adoption of extraordinary shapes, plus striking lighting design (like a swinging above-stage spotlight) and captivating sound are memorable aspects of a work much appreciated by the audience.
Ballet Blokes's main work is Robert Ray's version of The Sentimental Bloke, based on the musical of Albert Arlen which is of course based on C.J. Dennis's famous poems. Sets and costumes are brilliant in depicting a variety of scenes including Victoria Markets, Spadgers Lane, the pickle factory, the beach and Flemington racecourse. The AB corps and principals portray the romancing of Doreen (a most graceful Simone Goldsmith) by Bill (a manly Campbell McKenzie) in the midst of various distractions. Adrian Burnett is a suitably unctuous Mr Smithers, although no manager of a pickle factory could ever have had such a workforce of pretty maidens on whom to inflict his charms.
Marc Cassidy and Camilla Vergotis as Ginger Mick and Rose give a fine comic performance, and the whole company interact charmingly in presenting many magnificent scenes, including St Kilda Beach and the Melbourne Cup, with a lot of entertaining cameo performances. Special mention must go to the Romeo and Juliet sequence, one of the highlights of Dennis's poem:
Ray's approach is to have R&J danced by seemingly amateurish dancers to cruelly out-of-tune Tchaikowsky's music, in a splendid send-up of amateur theatrics.
The musical score is very successful, drawing largely on Arlen's musical version, with hints of other late 19th Century-early 20th Century music. (In the beach scene, for example, I picked up in close sequence a few bars from Kern's "All the things you are", "I do like to be beside the seaside", and Sullivan's "The flowers that bloom in the spring tra-la".)
Apart from looking far too elegant to be the roughs and toughs of 1913 Melbourne, the whole cast put on a splendid show, demonstrating great dancing and comic talent, with superb backing from the Queensland Orchestra.
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— John Henningham
(Performance seen: 3rd May/8th May 2002)
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www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
Les Miserables
Savoyards
It is unfortunate when the accompanying orchestra makes a stronger impression than the performers on stage, and especially when the impression it gives is anything but positive. Sadly, during the Savoyards' Sunday matinee performance of Les Miserables, the sins of the orchestra far outweighed the virtues of the cast.
The musical (based upon the Victor Hugo novel of the same name) is set in the early 1800s leading up to the French Revolution. It is based around the life of ex-prisoner Jean Valjean and his flight from lawman Inspector Javert, as he raises his adopted daughter Cosette. The story spans 17 years, the climax of which occurs at the street barricades of the student revolutionaries of Paris.
Running just on three hours, Les Miserables is enough to test the patience of any audience, and unfortunately at times the pace of the show tends to drag. Some of the more sober scenes seem drawn out at times, especially Valjean's recitative sections and Valjean’s escape into the sewers in the second half of the show.
The biggest issue, however, is with the accompanying orchestra. Unbalanced dynamics between the sections, inconsistent rhythm and tuning issues make many sections in the show confusing and distracting. As a result, the backing of the orchestra overshadows the good work of the cast, missing key cues and notes, especially in sections of recitative where the singer and accompaniment are constantly out of sync.
Apart from this, the unswerving enthusiasm and vitality of the cast are convincing, injecting a dynamic energy into the big ensemble numbers of the show, such as “At The End of The Day” and “The People’s Song”. Particularly impressive is the rich tone and clear articulation of the chorus, no mean feat considering the number of singers and tempo of the numbers involved.
Jack Bradford as Valjean is well suited, both physically and vocally, and although coming across as slightly over-dramatic in the opening scenes of the show, he seems to quickly settle into the role fairly smoothly.
Ruth Bridgstock gives a commendable performance, playing the role of Valjean’s adoptive daughter Cosette with an endearing hint of childlike innocence and demonstrating considerable vocal talent. Opposite her, Damien Orth is appropriately loveable if rather innocuous as the lovestruck Marius.
Holding their own in the comedy stakes are Gary Kliger and Julie Evans as the dishonorable Thenadiers, playing their roles up to the fullest comic potential and managing to keep the laughs coming throughout the show.
Trish Coyne as Eponine established her status as a more than capable vocalist, in her poignant rendition of “On My Own”, but it was Lionel Tennyson’s captivating performance of “Stars” and his telling interpretation of the malevolent Javert that made him the stand out performer among the principals.
Sets and props are quite sophisticated, the set design taking full advantage of the space possibilities afforded by the theatre; props such as the horse-cart give a professional feel to the production. Scene changes are quick, unobtrusive and effective, the action segueing nicely between the scenes. Costuming also is particularly impressive, such as the colourful and inspired outfits worn during “Lovely Ladies” and the wedding scene, once again adding an enlivened and professional touch.
— Jasmine Green
(Performance seen: 4th May 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
Macbeth: As Told by the Weird Sisters
Zen Zen Zo
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This tense and imaginative version of Shakespeare's tragedy works very well indeed. Obviously it is not a "traditional" Macbeth, but it is essentially Shakespeare's play, as seen through a colourful and engaging prism. The "weird sisters" (as the witches are called in the text) are with us from beginning to end: they are Macbeth's personal demons, swirling around him as he agonises and suffers the consequences of his murders, tempting him on, and ultimately destroying him. They give the evil eye to the audience and double as minor characters and extras in battle scenes, reinforcing the theme of ever-present evil.
Lighting, sound and sets combine to conjure up the theme of raw evil from the first instance of the sisters' emergence from the darkness. The Japanese ambience through the samurai-type characters clutching bamboo staves, vivid minimalist music including drums, gongs and flutes (and a hint of the Scottish pipes!), imaginatively choreographed and executed dances and fights, exotically colourful make-up and costumes all add up to a rich theatrical experience.
The elimination or collapsing of some characters and minor reassigning of speeches is smoothly written. The most unhappy edit (for those who cherish the original) is the interaction between Macduff and Malcolm when news comes of Macduff's family's destruction. Macduff can't quite carry off the truncated version on his own.
On the other hand there are mimed representations of events which are off-stage in Shakespeare and which you'd normally expect to see only in a movie version — Macbeth's early victory in battle, the murder of Duncan, the coronation and the death of Macbeth.
Various contextual and linking scenes are cut, including the play's one comedic moment, the porter's scene. Perhaps for this reason the tension is so great that the audience occasionally seeks humour in speeches that have no humorous intent.
It is good to have a youthful Lady Macbeth, but Jodie Le Vesconte seemed a little too "girlish" for the character. Perhaps this is to remind us that evil can dwell among the seemingly innocent. But her choreographed interactions with the witches are effective, reinforcing that she is essentially one of their number, and her sleepwalking scene emphasises her own tragedy. The weird sisters themselves, augmented to six (including two men) are brilliant in their energetic movement and dance, but less satisfactory at times in their delivery of their words. One particularly effective touch however is the sisters' echoing and anticipating of Macbeth during some of his monologues.
Steve Greig carries Duncan and Macduff's roles well, while Marcel Dorney is a most believable Banquo. His ghostly make-up is very good, as is his post-banquet appearance in the midst of the witches.
Gilfedder is an outstanding Macbeth. He's fully in command of the character and also performs well at the "physical theatre" aspects, despite being the cast's newcomer.
His focus is intense, and he is impressive in his effectively low-key treatment of the "famous" speeches like "Tomorrow and tomorrow ..".
Zen Zen Zo succeed magnifently in their aim of presenting theatre that is vivid, exciting and energetically "physical". This version would be an excellent introduction to Shakespeare for school kids: certainly the mainly young audience absolutely loved Saturday's performance.
— John Henningham
(Performance seen: 27th April 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
Charley's Aunt
Harvest Rain
Oxford, 1892: Two undergraduates, Jack (Nathan Kotzur) and Charley
(Sean Pollard), have fallen in love with Kitty (Julie Cotterell) and Amy
(Joanna Butler). In an attempt to confess their love to them, Jack and Charley
invite the girls over for lunch, to introduce them to Charley's wealthy aunt
from Brazil, whom Charley has never met. In order to keep Charley's aunt out
of the way while they make their moves on the girls, Jack and Charley
invite over their friend Lord Fancourt Babberley, or "Babbs", to entertain
and distract the aunt.
Charley's aunt however, does not arrive, and Babbs, who has an old woman
costume for an upcoming theatrical performance, is forced to pose as
Charley's aunt. Wonderfully hilarious antics ensue, and it does not help
matters when Jack's father, for monetary reasons, makes an effort to win
Babbs' hand in marriage.
This is not a one-joke play, as this synopsis might suggest. The obvious jokes regarding a man in woman's clothes are not elaborated: instead, the humour is derived from the extremely awkward and
comical situations in which the three young men find themselves.
The casting is well done, and each actor plays his or her character very
vividly. They work well with each other. However very occasionally
lines are spoken so fast they are almost inaudible. Special mention must go
to Nick Backstrom as Babbs: he delivers his lines with perfect
comic timing, and really lifts the entire performance.
It's a century-old play but as one seeing it for the first time, I can see why it has remained so popular. Charley's Aunt is about as light-hearted as a play can get, the jokes are
all in good taste, the script clever, and Harvest Rain's production gives us charming performances from the
entire cast.
— Tom Guerney
(Performance seen: 27th April 2002)
[A debut theatre review by Journalism student
and film reviewer Tom Guerney]
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
Yarnin' Up
Kooemba Jdarra
Actor-writer Anthony Newcastle loves a good yarn and it shows. His latest work presents a comical and opinionated series of yarns that address and play with contemporary "Aboriginal" and "White" issues.
Yarnin’ Up began as a one-man show, and has been expanded and developed with co-writer and director Mike Dickinson into a tight ensemble piece for four actors. The action is set in a Brisbane share house owned by Ken, a well-intentioned white Australian keen to "look after" Aboriginal Australians. But Ken's Aboriginal tenants, Evey, a tough talking woman from St George, Jo, a young and idealistic singer-songwriter, and Malcolm, a "successful", capitalist bureaucrat, are quick to challenge his patronising ideals.
Keeping the mood light and playful, the play presents, criticises and sends up each character's (changing) viewpoints in turn. The audience is encouraged to laugh at Ken's naive racist attitudes, and Evey’s down to earth fiery no bullshit philosophy (for she is just aiming to make it through another day and eat some chocolates). And instead of being shown as a champion of Aboriginal rights, Malcolm is ridiculed for being "a coconut — black on the outside, white on the inside": for he has completely ‘assimilated’ himself into white culture right down to the affected "Ciao" he shouts into his mobile phone.
But as the characters attack, discuss, joke, and banter the criticism is firmly placed on the character's attitudes — not the characters themselves… each character is treated with an affectionate disrespect. The play explores the traps of (excuse the pun) "black and white" thinking for as the play for progresses even the straight-talking Evey is shown to "play down" the more disturbing Aboriginal issues in order to get ahead in white society.
This collection of "yarns" is a fantastic vehicle for the discussion of contemporary cultural issues, and touches on alcoholism, gambling, assimilation, "nigger farms", cultural identity, and many other "cultural mine-fields" along the way.
And at all times the writers maintain a deep respect for each character's strengths and weaknesses: Evey is shown to be wrestling with her abusive attitudes, Ken with his confusion of issues of race, Malcolm with his weakness for capitalist ideals, and Jo is shown to be working through ideas of "reconciliation" versus cultural identity.
Most interesting is the moment after Malcolm, Evey and Jo have attacked Ken for his racist attitudes. Initially a deeply hurt Ken self-righteously exclaims that he is trying to “trying to drag the Aboriginals into the 20th century", but is later shown to hold a great capacity for change. In these ways, Yarnin' Up realistically addresses the foundation of racist attitudes and treats all perspectives with empathy.
The play follows the characters' lives over a year, and Jo's songs are placed between scenes to function as both a commentary and voice of hope. Performing the part of Jo, Ruth Ghee's original music and beautiful voice provide a lyrical and reflective distance from the confronting issues of the production.
Mike Dickinson's bold direction foregrounds the "storytelling" nature of this production. Choosing a performance style of direct address, Dickinson has the characters face front and clearly present their opinions. And under his uncluttered direction, just three chairs are enough to fill the large space of the Judith Wright Theatre, firmly placing the emphasis on the performers.
This show is marked by excellent ensemble work by the three main actors. Roxanne McDonald as Evey, Anthony Newcastle as Malcolm and Daniel Murphy as Ken create a very dynamic and engaging team and the audience immediately warm to their fully rounded characterisations. McDonald steals the show as Evey, a tough woman from St George who has come to try her luck in the city. I found her heart-felt and passionate monologue on the under-discussed "white issues" to be the emotional heart of the production. As Jo, Ruth Ghee's performance and role felt removed from the play. This functions well when she is in "chorus" mode, but seemed to jar the flow of the performance when her character is integrated into the final scene.
The direct style of this play is complemented by Nadine McDonald's simple and effective design: a white-drop sheet marks the performance space and is framed by a huge set of scaffolding stairs. Household junk (such as old furniture and building materials) under the stairs nicely place the action in an old Queenslander house. This design is enhanced by an earthy, textured backdrop, and by Jason Organ's moody and evocative lighting.
The only major criticism I have of this production is artistic director Nadine McDonald's program note:
"Yarnin' Up is a fantastic new work that enables us, blackfellas and whitefellas to embrace our differences and have a good long laugh at ourselves without having to lay guilt or blame. It's a laugh! It's a great time! It's a great story! Sit back and enjoy!"
This seems to promote the show as a "feel-good" production in which the audience will be "spoon-fed" a happy time. However, for me Yarnin' Up' — for all its humour and good-natured approach — offers an uncompromising (and at times confronting) forum for contemporary debate.
— Joanne Loth
(Performance seen: 13th April 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
The Cemetery Club
Villanova Players
The Cemetery Club is a classically structured comedy with heart, so that — even though what is going to happen is signalled long before it does — it moves you anyway. And it is only right that it should do so, since it’s about one of the most difficult times that has to be faced within older couples: coming to terms with the loss of one’s partner. As such, the play is able to treat death as a reality that needs to be confronted and accommodated, and shows up the absurdity of our society’s desire to shy away from this fact of life.
The story centres around the different ways in which three friends handle widowhood, how they react when that very rare bird — a widower — enters their lives, and what happens when a glitzy rival comes on the scene. All of this is set — where else? — in the Jewish quarter of New York. This, of course, is a part of the world that is almost as familiar to us as anywhere in Brisbane, through snappy portrayals on film, television and the stage by the likes of Woody Allen, Jerry Seinfeld, Neil Simon, and — it turns out — the lesser known but equally productive playwright Ivan Menchell (who not only wrote The Cemetery Club, but also has to take some of the credit, or blame, as a writer/producer of The Nanny).
Where it does stray into unfamiliar ground is in the culture of the cemetery, which is the periodic meeting place of the widows who gather there — with, as it gradually transpires, varying degrees of enthusiasm — to be with their dead husbands, and to tend their graves. Ida (Pat Wockner) wants to move on, Lucille (Mary Woodall) wants to have fun, and Doris (Glynne Liddy) wants to hold on to her memories. The catalyst who brings change into all of their lives is Sam the widower (Paul Liddy), through his evolving relationship with the widows, and by drawing the showy Mildred (Nola Grimshaw) into the equation.
The play works well as an ensemble piece for each of its five, well-defined characters. This is helped in no small measure by the well-oiled teamwork of its cast; which is not surprising when you find out (as I did at interval, of which more later) that, between them, they have clocked up a very respectable number of years as Villanova Players. There is quick recovery from a few fluffed lines, and events move along at a lively pace, with plenty of laughs and some tears along the way. The only unevenness, and what could be regarded as a jarring note, is the matter of accents. If the decision is to deliver the New York Jewish vernacular, then it’s got to be one in, all in, all the time. Otherwise, there is an argument for sticking to home grown speech (as heard in the current production of Art which — while set in Paris with much talk of francs — did not require its actors to assume French accents). As it is, Wockner mostly does Australian while the others do the New York twang with varying degrees of consistency.
Overall, this doesn’t detract from the enjoyment of the production. Especially when that is not the only pleasure vouchsafed the audience from the night’s entertainment. Because, in a sense, what you are getting from the Villanova Players is a play within a play. There is, surrounding it all, the nostalgic feeling of an English village glee club under the baton of Margaret Rutherford or Robert Morley. So it was entirely fitting that the director of the play was seen taking care of business during interval, especially since he was none other than the very recent Matilda winner of the Actors’ Benevolent fund 2001 Award for long-time commitment to Queensland Theatre, Leo Wockner. Who is married to one of the play’s stars, Pat Wockner. Whose co-star and play suitor, Paul Liddy, is married to another co-star, Glynne Liddy, the widow Doris. All in all, then, a group that is truly wedded to the theatre.
As I said, I picked up some of this information at interval, itself a unique theatrical experience that just reinforces the village hall atmosphere. For $2 and 15 minutes there is a convivial supper of wine, soft drinks, tea and coffee, cheese platters and sweet biscuits.
In keeping with the spirit of the Matildas, and their acknowledgment of all of the people responsible for a nice night’s entertainment, it suddenly occurred to me as I was clapping at the end of the show, that there was no good reason why the people behind the scenes should not come on stage to take a bow. Leo Wockner most certainly should have, as should stage manager Cathy Lutvey, and also Noela Smith, especially for her very witty treatment of the outfits for the wedding.
Together with a troupe that performs with great gusto and wears its accumulated years with considerable brio, they are making some important points about ageing at a time when our culture is becoming increasingly youth-oriented.
— Anne Ring
(Performance seen: 13th April 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
The Big Hit
Brisbane Arts Theatre
With plenty of Brisbane in-jokes, witty commentary on the theatre scene and a tongue-in-cheek look at the world of strip clubs, Paul Osuch’s The Big Hit has all the potential to be just that. Unfortunately the opening night of Brisbane Arts Theatre’s "world premiere season" fails to cash in on the winning combination, lacking the professionalism and polish required to carry it off.
The Big Hit centres on the story of the two owner/operators of Brisbane’s only remaining theatre. When Carmel (Marty Cusch) and Olivia (Leah Kinnon) find themselves in financial trouble, they strike a bargain with local strip club dealer Warren Grohl (John Pearson) that allows them to go ahead with the show, provided that his girlfriend, exotic dancer Annie (Selena Cheyne) gets a major role.
The jokes of course draw similarities between the acting and adult industries and involve all the stereotypes of the two, the drama queen Alexandra (Lyndelle Green), the sleazy male lead Rob (David Fowles) and the very blonde, intellectually challenged stripper Annie. But although it has all the right ingredients in theory, the show is let down in the execution and loses its impact in performance.
Not unlike other first night performances, the most pressing issue in the show was timing. Scenes were wont to drag and momentary dialogue hesitations and forgotten lines upset the pace of the show. Considering this was the opening night of the first season, no doubt this will improve with time.
Kusch is suitably vague and artistic as Carmel, and Kinnon plays the role of the overbearing Olivia with plenty of contempt, even if she lays the sneering on a touch heavily. As a pair the two never quite seemed to click as a “couple”, and as a result fail to inspire any great deal of empathy for their woes.
Fowles as the womanising Rob is particularly convincing however, as is Pearson in his theatre debut as Grohl, both of whom demonstrate an excellent ability to take full advantage of the script without going overboard. Unfortunately some of the other characters seem slightly forced. Whether as a result of directional influence, inbuilt script issues, or merely a sign of opening night awkwardness, performances by Natalie Mann in the dual roles of the bank consultant Chloe and real estate agent Betty, Cheyne as Annie and Green as Alexandra all come across as slightly overdone.
A few of the scenes don’t really seem to work — in particular Olivia’s meeting with Warren and the very confusing final scene, in which the conclusion comes on so suddenly the audience is left to puzzle out exactly what happened in the final ten minutes of the show. Once again whether this is due to inherent flaws in the script itself or merely poor execution is open to debate.
On the whole, The Big Hit certainly has potential, despite Osuch’s penchant for a cheesy, “happily ever after” ending, but going by the opening night performance there are still some cast and script issues that need to be resolved. With time and further performance opportunities, The Big Hit may well mature into the witty comedy it promises to be, but until then it can only really be seen as a work in progress.
— Jasmine Green
(Performance seen: 12th April 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
ART
Melbourne Theatre Company
Three men in their sparsely furnished apartments argue over the massive expenditure by one of them on a piece of inscrutable modern art. This is the premise of French playwright Yasmina Reza's ART.
Rather than agreeing to differ, the trio spend an enormous amount of time debating the qualities of the painting (which appears to the audience as an all-white canvas) and criticising each other's values.
John Wood plays the aggressive Marc,
Geoff Kelson is the somewhat otherworldly Serge
and Kim Gyngell the acquiescent Yvan.
Each is splendidly in character and they do well at bouncing off one another. Gyngell is particularly good, his extended neurotic monologue earning him a spontaneous ovation from Saturday night's audience.
But ART is by no means the uproarious tear-wiping comedy I had expected from the publicity and international awards. It is undoubtedly amusing, cleverly written. It has many a good laugh.
But it fails to come to grips with its themes in any meaningful way or to say anything particularly new or memorable.
Apart from art criticism, the play
explores the nature of friendship among men.
Yet it doesn't ring true to the nature of male friendships in Australia, nor perhaps in France either. Many of the emotional probings of the participants seem more feminine than masculine. Perhaps that is the point, to show the feminine dimensions of male emotions, yet the interrelationships don't seem quite real, and Mademoiselle Reza's capacity to adopt a male perspective seems
little better than that of the Bronte sisters.
Nor can one really imagine too many men (or women for that matter) become obsessed over a strange aesthetic choice by one of them. A bit of ribbing perhaps, but no ongoing resentment or demands for explanation. In all of this, the strongly Aussie accents of the trio strike a discordant note.
— John Henningham
(Performance seen: 6th April 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
Bag o' Marbles
QTC
Life, as experienced by the protagonists of this play, may well have been a Bag O’Marbles. But it was certainly no bowl of cherries. This is the story of a family doing it tough — and violent — in rural Australia in the fifties. A time and a place where it was an oppressive man’s world, and — when he was troubled — everyone else could damn well suffer the consequences.
The story is a familiar one: part of the history of what women’s liberation was fighting against, and part of the reason why, sadly, women’s refuges still play an important role in the lives of some women, who can — if they’re lucky and live in a large enough centre — escape to one. But violence is only one of the marbles in the baggage of this family’s life, and playwright Kathryn Ash has woven a complex net of interactions between the members of Samantha’s extended family, as seen by her on her journey home. While this journey is almost all in the mind, it is played out with earthy intensity by an ensemble cast on a stage whose setting and lighting bring to life the heat, dust, barrenness and Spartan homes of farmers who are barely able to scratch out a living in the more sunburnt parts of our country.
This is, at the same time, a play that will impinge on different people in very different ways, and totally vindicates the theatrical practice of giving reviewers two tickets to a show. In this case, my reactions were very different from those of my companion, who reacted on the basis of experiences that I had only heard about. And, talking about this afterwards (and for Bag O’Marbles one can only do this then, as there is no interval), I realised that I had missed out on the emotional intensity that had moved some of the audience to tears at the way in which elements of their past were skewered with — what I am told — was painful accuracy.
Meanwhile, I was intellectualising aspects of the play, and seeing parallels with some others that I had reviewed in the past year. The very differently oriented Jake’s Women, for example, by quintessential New York Jewish playwright Neil Simon, also involved extensive encounters with “figments” of the main character’s imagination, in reliving and reworking elements of past relationships and events. And Louis Nowra's very similarly oriented Summer of the Aliens had the main character, in adulthood, as narrator of an extended flashback to his life as a sensitive adolescent in difficult circumstances in small town sixties Australia.
I was also hampered by unfulfilled expectations of the structure of the play, anticipating that it would play along conventional lines, where a young woman first reminisces about her family, and then arrives back home to be with them for some event. For that reason, therefore, as the play unfolded, I saw the imaginatively surreal counterpointing of her traumatised past against insights from her present perspective as just the lead-in to the rest of the action. And I kept expecting a shift into her here and now. Which didn’t eventuate. What was interesting, then, was to find out afterwards from the program notes that my expectation was in fact the original way in which the play was performed, in 1994. Ash says that it was only while reworking it in 2000, that she became bothered by the second act and rewrote it because “the first act is surreal. The second act was not. [It] was set in real time with real time reactions. The difference between acts amounted to a rupture in style”.
Under Michael Gow’s direction, her play in its present form is an extremely forceful production with excellent performances from all its cast. Carol Burns is particularly moving as Rose, the mother whose spirit survives being a victim of her time and place. And Peter Marshall gives a tragic impotence to Stanley’s trajectory from a man filled with hopes and dreams to one who only knows how to take his frustrations out on his family. Marshall also has to juggle two roles, that of Stanley and of Phillip, the son he is moulding in his own light, and — in doing so — opens up the question of whether this device is of the author’s making, or due to some other creative or budgetary consideration. Whatever the reason, the need to cast a youngish man to straddle both parts means that his Stanley is slightly out of step, in a physical sense, with the older-looking Rose in their younger couplings — a disparity that could easily have been addressed with some more judicious use of hair colouring and/or hat.
Karen Crone gives a sparky touch to her role as Shirley, a woman bursting with life and with love for the children she can’t have, while Susan Prince plays Cynthia with the right amount of brusque pragmatism and cynicism as the stay-at-home sister of Samantha. Stephanie Briarwood has the key and highly complex role of Samantha, the voyager who is drawn into various scenes of her past while at the same time analysing it in the light of her life since then, as the one who got away. Briarwood gives an insightful performance of a person who is struggling to understand what it was that has contributed to who she now is, and is only hamstrung by the slightly stagy monologues she is given to set some of the scenes.
Ash has described this play as a comedy, in the dry, laconic style that is “quintessentially Australian”, so it has to be said that neither my companion nor I found much to laugh at. As it is soon to be given a rehearsed reading in New York, it will be interesting to hear whether it tickles the funny bone of an audience in a country where all things Australian appear to be flavour of the month.
— Anne Ring
(Performance seen: 6th April 2002)
www.STAGEDIARY.com: Queensland's Online Stage Magazine
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