Review: The God Of Hell (Mophead Productions / Sydney Independent Theatre Company)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

mophead Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Aug 26 – Sep 13, 2014
Playwright: Sam Shepard
Director: Rodney Fisher
Cast: Vanessa Downing, Jake Lyall, Ben McIvor, Tony Poli
Image by Gareth Davies

Theatre review
Sam Shepard’s The God Of Hell portrays patriotism as a dangerous concept. In the name of national pride, morality is distorted and human rights are nullified for the benefit of an abstract higher power. The meaning of citizenry is subversively explored, against the backdrop of a traditional and idyllic farm, where residents live honest existences without the need for labels of jingoistic identification. Emma and Frank live quietly in Missouri, with cows and plants occupying their attention, and they want for nothing. Their lives are simple but complete, and we admire their wholesome day-to-day routine, which the play presents at some level of glorification. Complications emerge when characters appear to disrupt their peace, and we observe scenes of destruction transpiring as a result of narcissism, greed and ignorance.

Helmed by Rodney Fisher who serves as director and designer, the production is inventive, exuberant and sophisticated. It is a very good looking show, with an ambitious set that is perfectly proportioned and elegantly executed, communicating a sense of rustic purity that is immediately endearing. Together with Ryan Shuker’s lighting, Fisher has materialised a blissful vision that represents an ideal we cannot bear to see tainted. Also successful is sound designer Max Lyandvert’s work, which provides a beautiful dimension of rural domesticity that eventually develops into something much more sinister.

Fisher’s direction is lively and precise, with a surprising clarity that always places emphasis on the narrative. It is very accomplished storytelling that constantly introduces fresh elements of interest to maintain a connection with the audience. Even when Shepard’s script becomes alienating or abstruse, the plot continues to be excitingly coherent. Fisher achieves a balance between naturalism and theatricality that makes The God Of Hell fascinating and enjoyable. The smell of bacon cooking on a stove top is both an ordinary occurrence and a flamboyant stage flourish. The four actors too, are impressively believable, while being quite dazzlingly entertaining.

Emma is played by Vanessa Downing who keeps us anchored in a place of reality while the play escalates to dramatic heights. Downing is charming, funny and entirely likable, so we identify with Emma readily, even if her life is probably quite unlike anybody’s in Sydney. She provides an authenticity that allows an understating and affiliation, and we form an important emotional bond with that character. Her husband Frank is equally charismatic, thanks to Tony Poli’s vibrant stage energy and immense presence. Jake Lyall as Haynes has extraordinary focus, giving valuable gravity to a mysterious role, and Ben McIvor’s playful interpretation of the villainous Welch is critical to the dynamic and buoyant quality of the production.

It is easy to be fatigued by arguments about politics, terrorism, torture and military power. Thirteen years have past since the September 11 attacks, and no one is any closer to winning either the real or metaphysical wars against terror. Governments are unable to provide effective solutions, and every form of media bombards with incessant information that we can only, at best, struggle with. These themes have become bewildering, and like Emma, we can only attempt to not be lured into convenient modes of ideology and behaviour. It is a challenge to preserve a clear conscience and a pure heart, but it is the human spirit that will always hope for Emma to stay uncontaminated, regardless of the insurmountable odds she faces at the play’s end.

www.sitco.net.au | www.mophead.com.au

22Aug2014

Review: Danny And The Deep Blue Sea (Little Spoon Theatre Co)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

littlespoon Venue: Roxbury Hotel (Glebe NSW), Aug 22 – 30, 2014
Playwright: John Patrick Shanley
Director: Fiona Hallenan-Barker
Music: Ed Gain
Cast: Wade Doolan, Karli Evans

Theatre review
Love and human connection are sacred. They come easily to some, but remain elusive to others. John Patrick Shanley’s Danny And The Deep Blue Sea shows us two downtrodden souls Roberta and Danny, both desperate and lonely. We witness their efforts at discovering a life beyond their personal darkness, commencing with a chance meeting at a depressed bar in the middle of a poor Bronx neighbourhood. They find hints of contact, but each meaningful moment perishes, and every brief instant of radiance dissolves back into gloom.

The production is staged in a makeshift theatre at the Roxbury Hotel, located just outside of Sydney city. The space is quartered, so that performances take place along two channels that intersect in the room’s centre. It is an unusual location, so it makes good sense to resist creating a conventional proscenium aspect, but the actors’ faces are often obscured and losing that precious perspective is disappointing. Fortunately, both actors Karli Evans and Wade Doolan, are intense and focused, and they conspire with the venue’s intimacy to manufacture a beautifully transportative experience that takes us to spheres of secrecy and revelation.

Evans and Doolan are individually captivating, and their chemistry is excellent. Scenes of conflict later in the piece are dynamic and daunting at close range, but less effective are earlier sections that require a lighter, more humorous touch to allow greater identification from the audience. Their stories are dark, and we need to be invited into their worlds with a little more warmth. There probably will always be a sense of alienation to this story, but it needs to capture our emotions more firmly at the start before it unleashes its tumultuous dramatics.

Tales of hope and salvation are important for art and the society to which it belongs. Artists find inspiration, so that they can themselves provide inspiration to their public. Roberta and Danny represent the sadness and regret that persist in our lives, but more significant is the unexpected bravery that surfaces from their interaction. Who knows what it truly means to love, but when two people collide and engender a wonderful joy that had been hitherto impossible, that phenomenon feels quite a bit like magic.

www.littlespoontheatre.com

21Aug2014

Review: Wolf Lullaby (New Theatre)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

newtheatre Venue: New Theatre (Newtown NSW), Aug 19 – Sep 13, 2014
Playwright: Hilary Bell
Director: Emma Louise
Cast: Maryellen George, Peter McAllum, Lucy Miller, David Woodland
Photograph © Bob Seary

Theatre review
We walk around with rose-tinted glasses everyday. The world can be a very ugly place if one chooses to see it only for its flaws, so we hold on to convenient lies in order that we may arrive at bedtime relatively unscathed. In Hilary Bell’s Wolf Lullaby, a veil is lifted off some hard truths and we are confronted with concepts of childhood innocence and familial sanctity that contradict the comforting notions we hold dear. Bell’s play is dark, disturbing and challenging. It is also full of mystery and dramatic tension, with interesting characters that tell an unusual, and sometimes horrific, story.

Director Emma Louise’s interpretation of Bell’s text is subtle and unpretentious, but the resulting production is a powerful one. Much of the abomination that happens, can only be seen through our own imagination. Heidi Brosnan’s lighting, and sound by Chelsea Reed and Alexander Tweedale, contribute immensely to an atmosphere of foreboding, and Allan Walpole’s set, while being a little too literal, contains elements that heighten the play’s supernatural qualities. A highlight of Louise’s work is the handling of ambiguities in the narrative. She does not force upon us a strong point of view about unfolding events, but leaves morsels of intrigue resonating for our own discovery and comprehension.

Half of the show’s four characters however, feel a little too indistinct. The portrayals of Warren and Sergeant Armstrong are realistic, but their personality transformations seem too sudden and we are left with a less than thorough understanding of their behaviour and motivations. Fortunately, the more dominant roles are delivered with greater detail. Lucy Miller plays Angela, the mother character in the piece. Her work is beautifully complex, and she creates a multiplicity that is responsible for the work’s depth and intellectual impact. Angela is unexpectedly fascinating, and Miller’s measured approach makes her the most disarming and enigmatic character on stage. Nine year-old Lizzie anchors the play in a realm of nightmares. Maryellen George is an adult but her performance as Lizzie is accurate, touching and eerie. Her mimicry of childlike gesturing is impressive, but it is the way she balances conflicting truths within her personal narrative that thrills and perplexes us with a perverse delight.

Stories about children are often predictable and unoriginal, but Wolf Lullaby is a rare beast. It is not light entertainment, but it is certainly an enthralling and eye-opening night at the theatre. It locates sacred beliefs and punctures them with an honesty that cannot be doubted. Our world is not a perfect place, but its dangers are amplified when we endow them with delusions. Art is often about fantasy, but its real worth is found in its depiction of the human condition. This is now a production that will lull us into sweet slumber, but its messages will keep our minds occupied for a few nights thereafter.

www.newtheatre.org.au

19Aug2014

Review: Nora (Belvoir St Theatre)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

belvoir1

Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Aug 9 – Sep 14, 2014
Playwrights: Kit Brookman, Anne-Louise Sarks (after A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen)
Director: Anne-Louise Sarks
Actors: Blazey Best, Linda Cropper, Finn Dauphinee, Damien Ryan, Ava Strybosch
Image by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
It is no surprise that artists are drawn to the idea of reconstructing Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House. The power of the original text and the stunning questions it poses have kept audiences debating for centuries. Kit Brookman and Anne-Louise Sarks’ updated version brings key characters to contemporary times, with the first act presenting a condensed re-telling of Ibsen’s story, and the second act continuing on from the legendary cliffhanger.

Act one is an elegant revisit that places focus on Nora, her husband Torvald and their children. It effectively communicates the anguish that could result from a life that includes only homemaking duties, and shifts Ibsen’s burden of blame away from Torvald, so that Nora’s own decisions and actions are implicated. This is an important new perspective that amplifies the play’s central theme of personal empowerment. We see Nora’s struggle and understand it to be a consequence of an individual’s poor decisions. The protagonist is no longer seen only as a victim of circumstances beyond her control, so her determination to find liberation resonates with greater complexity. Also successful is visual design of the production’s initial half. Marg Horwell’s set and Paul Jackson’s lights magically transform the stage into a middle class home with a deceptive foreboding warmth and see-through walls that indicate a sense of deficiency. The space is intimate and claustrophobic, giving us insight into a life that is visibly cosy, but oppressive under the surface.

Act two comprises mainly of a single scene, taking place only hours after Nora leaves her home. There are parallels with Ibsen’s original where Nora’s friend comes to her for help with seeking employment, but the show’s second half is largely a new invention that examines her future more closely. Unfortunately, Brookman and Sarks’ vision seems to dwell too heavily on Nora’s shock and confusion, which prevent character development and do not add enough interest to the unfolding aftermath. Also too obvious is the revelation that her responsibilities over her children must be met, regardless of the divorce. This commonplace discovery feels awkwardly trite, and it prevents drama and tension from taking hold. In 2014, we all know that there simply is no rationale for any woman to abandon everything she knows in order to cultivate a better life for herself in the Western world.

Damien Ryan’s performance as the updated Torvald is intelligently crafted. We see a man who has not been attentive to his spouse’s emotional world, but unlike his predecessor, his behaviour is not particularly undignified. He plays the familiar role of a regular modern day husband, and makes us wonder if our social conventions and expectations are enough for making a happy home life. This Torvald does not display glaring misjudgments, so we attribute guilt to him in a much more nuanced way. The dark and problematic role of Nora is played by Blazey Best who invests heavily into portraying her character’s torment. Her commitment is evident, but concluding moments reveal a less than convincing sequel to Nora’s story. Best plays her disorientation well, but that prolonged state of bewilderment seems to prevent the narrative from going somewhere more compelling and theatrical. The ultimate resolution or perhaps lack thereof, gives a feeling that the show is undercooked and prematurely unveiled.

The idea of Nora is experimental, but its spirit is less brave. It is radical in concept but not in execution. Nora’s story is about being stuck, and about the courage that is necessary for a breakthrough to occur, but the production appears to be confined by a shortage in risk and adventure. The original work ends at a point that fires up imagination. Thinking about the characters’ fates become irresistible, and their stories are brought to completion in private fantasies. Masterpieces are intimidating, and overhauling the great Ibsen’s writing looks to be as hard as building a new house that aims to improve upon a perfection that resides only in our minds.

www.belvoir.com.au

14Aug2014

Review: The Bitterness Of Pomegranates (Sydney University Dramatic Society)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

suds Venue: University of Sydney Studio B (Camperdown NSW), Aug 13 – 23, 2014
Director: Julia Clark
Playwright: Julia Clark
Cast: Brendan Colnan, India Cordony, Gabby Florek, Sarah Graham, Max Melzer, Diana Reid, Dominic Scarf

Theatre review
Relationships at home are invariably complex. We tell stories from personal experience, not only because we know them well, but also because of the need for a process of articulation that assists with making sense of the people and issues surrounding us. The Bitterness Of Pomegranates by Julia Clark feels like a disclosure of personal confidences involving characters from the writer’s inner sanctum. Their foibles and circumstances might not be familiar to all, but what connects is the intimacy of family dynamics that most audiences would easily understand.

The highlight of Clark’s script is its element of intrigue, but the play does not manage to keep a sharp focus. It contains several themes and concerns that are not explored at much depth, leaving an impression that mundanity is its greatest interest. The work is structured well, but most scenes feel too delicate, resulting in a show that looks a lot like daily life, without enough theatricality on offer. Fortunately the show manages to keep us engaged, with interesting characters and entertaining relationships that we want to learn more about.

Gabby Florek’s performance as Margaret is surprisingly polished. She brings an authentic presence to the character that helps us believe the world being depicted on stage. Florek is a compelling actor, with a gentle tenacity that helps give the production some gravity. The women in the play lack fire. They all seem dejected, but none display passion or anger. Their lives are not wonderful and they should be louder in their displeasure with the cards they are dealt. We understand that society has the potential to suppress its individuals, but we long to see examples of great women, in life and in theatre, break free of their shackles, preferably with deafening drama.

www.sudsusyd.com

13Aug2014

Review: Constellations (Darlinghurst Theatre Company)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

darlinghursttheatre Venue: Eternity Playhouse (Darlinghurst NSW), Aug 8 – Sep 7, 2014
Playwright: Nick Payne
Director: Anthony Skuse
Cast: Emma Palmer, Sam O’Sullivan
Image by Gez Xavier Mansfield

Theatre review (originally published in Auditorium Magazine)
The only constant in life is change, and its only certainty is death. Nick Payne’s Constellations is an exploration into the ways we create and tell stories. Through its inventive format of repetition and shifting perspectives, it relays a tale that is remarkably simple, but because of its adventurous format, the work that results is profound and thought-provoking. The play discusses the nature of time, in relation to the way its plot unfolds and also to astrophysics. Its interest in non-linear temporal expressions is derived from academia, but it raises questions of life choices by actualising on the stage, abstract notions of parallel universes. We see two characters acting out unpredictable duplications of scenes, each time with different motivations and nuances. They prompt us to look at the ways we choose to react to things, at how we make decisions in daily life, and whether or not we are in control of the consequences that befall us.

The work is in part about mortality and its inevitability, but it is also about the elasticity of concepts like fate and destiny. In some ways, the message is an optimistic one, where existence can take a myriad of forms, and circumstances can be altered at some degree by volition. The idea of regret and redress also figures into its themes when we observe its characters, Marianne and Roland, moving through time in all directions, to revisit sequences and reinterpret them with fresh approaches. Payne’s script is as complex as the direction wishes for it to be, and Anthony Skuse is certainly unafraid to extricate depth while he builds a coherent piece that looks on its surface to be a love story. The conceptual aspects of Constellations are realised with exciting clarity, and it surprises with emotional textures that are beautifully rendered. The play moves us on levels of instinct, intellect and sentimentality; a rare experience at the theatre, and seriously rewarding.

Skuse and his cast have brought to the writing, thoughtful range and a vibrant energy that keeps us fascinated and engaged. The experimental style of Payne’s script is successfully restrained so that it is a presence that does not overwhelm. There is sufficient room for a cerebral connection, but we are also encouraged to feel the joy, pleasure, anger, fear and sadness that flows through the rich landscape of human experience being portrayed before us. Skuse’s brilliance lies in his ability to discover layers in the play that appear contradictory, and make them all seem simultaneously truthful. His work has a humorous charm that readily finds its way into lighter sections, and comedy often appears quite out of the blue, without ever feeling clumsy or contrived.

Acting in Constellations is demanding to say the least. The production has us fixated on the couple and gives them nowhere to hide. They have to perform countless transitions that are entirely unnatural, yet must create characters that always feel accurate and believable. Both players succeed wonderfully on these fronts, and furthermore, they are immediately endearing and we hang on to their every word. Emma Palmer is simply glorious. The actor feels so completely alive and truthful on this stage, we cannot help but be mesmerised by the way she develops her character from moment to moment. The production relies heavily on Palmer’s performance and she makes it a breathtaking one. The thorough commitment she gives to every quirky flourish and creative decision is evidence of an artist’s single-minded passion for her art form. Palmer elevates the show from abstract philosophy, and provides a palpable authenticity that is responsible for keeping our attention and emotions invested.

Roland is the supportive boyfriend, the selfish bastard, the saint, and the liar. Sam O’Sullivan is compelling at every stage of his portrayal, and even though his work can be at times a little quiet, he never fails to keep us engrossed as the regular guy who is not always Prince Charming. O’Sullivan has a comic flair that he utilises with refreshing competence whenever possible. The actors are individually strong and they work well together, but the chemistry between the two is sometimes unpersuasive, which means that sparks do not always fly when they need to. On the other hand, we feel a sense of weakness in the characters’ bond, which creates an ominous tension that points to the ever-present threat of their relationship’s possible demise.

Production design is understandably simple. There is something bare bones about the script, which the visuals reflect. The rawness of two people unveiling humanity with intensive honesty is matched by the minimalism of a stage that does not intrude. However, it is worth noting that the venue is fairly large, and allowing the full stage space to be exposed for most of the duration tends to take away from the intimacy that the acting strives for. Set and lighting could have helped reduce the vastness so that the characters are put in greater focus, and be in a position to achieve a stronger connection with the audience. Composer and sound designer Marty Jamieson also creates minimal work but its effect is deceptively powerful. Jamieson never draws attention to himself, but uses simple musical notes to indicate occasional shifts in dramatic tone. His work is sensitive, intuitive and tacitly sublime.

There is no subject more universal than death and illness. Constellations causes an interruption to our lives by making us look at the inevitable end. More than that, it encourages reflection on that journey to death, or to put it less morbidly, the play shines light on what we choose to make out of our every day on earth. Some of us look to the stars to find meaning and to prophesy, but the only predetermined thing that no one is able to escape, is the fact that nothing lasts forever. Each second is full of possibility, and fortunate are those who can uncover the magic that awaits in every twinkling breath.

www.darlinghursttheatre.com

11Aug2014

Review: Bad Day Insurance (Old 505 Theatre)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

Venue: Old 505 Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Aug 6 – 24, 2014
Playwright: Lisa Chappell
Director: Drew Fairley
Cast: Lisa Chappell, Sarah Hynter

Theatre review
The quote, “resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die,” has been attributed to different sources, including Nelson Mandela. In Bad Day Insurance, two elderly women spend their days in each other’s company, secluded from the world except for people on telephones who ask for insurance payouts due to having a bad day for all kinds of reasons. Esther and Mavis have to listen to these first world complaints every waking moment, and we soon get the impression that their state of torture would have been for a lot more than a few years. They are watched over by an invisible non-human entity named Boob, who exercises absolute control over these women, although we wonder if, like many of our gods, its existence is entirely in their minds. Esther and Mavis are grey haired and grey skinned, having waited an inordinately long time in their “call centre” (they sleep and work there) for an inscrutable something, or perhaps simply for their days at Bad Day Insurance to come to an end. They are trapped, and we wonder why. We wonder if they have imprisoned themselves and are punishing each other for something that had happened. We never hear the other end of the phone lines, and they do not ring on their own accord. The women verbalise a “ring ring” if a call arrives to taunt the other.

Lisa Chappell’s script is humorous, but its more striking feature is its strange darkness. The mystery and intrigue that Chappell creates is riveting, and her brand of empathetic absurdity brings out an unexpected compassion in the viewing experience. There are many loose ends to the piece, but meaningful details are peppered throughout so that our imagination is kept busy. We are entertained by a lot of silliness, but at the same time, we are completely engrossed on a cerebral level, seduced by all its somber resonances that point to something deeper that wants to be unearthed.

Performances by Chappell and Sarah Hynter are flawless. The actors are energetic, mischievous and magnetic, with a consummate professionalism that easily convinces us that all bases are covered. We are taken on a ride that involves laughter, surprise, curiosity, terror and poignancy. Under the directorship of Drew Fairley who provides a sensitive, nuanced third eye, the production they have created is a prime example of how showbusiness and art can collude to communicate something enjoyable, disarming and very clever. Talent of this calibre is a rare and beautiful thing, and to see Chappell and Hynter invent something that moves us on so many levels, is awe-inspiring.

Freedom is prized by everyone. It is not available to all, but in places like Australia, it is certainly within reach. Understanding how to attain that emancipation depends largely on an understanding of one’s own circumstances. Bad Day Insurance shows us that we almost never see the completeness of our lives. There are always annoyances, disappointments and pains that hold our attention, and we are always waiting for something to facilitate a release. Esther and Mavis have suffered an eternity. Prisoners of fear, despair and defeat, they have formed a hellish life, unaware of their power for creating better days for themselves. They fail to see that the locks enslaving them require keys that only they can manufacture. This is a show about our freedom, and it challenges us to seize it.

www.lisachappell.net

8Aug2014

Review: Fragments Of I Am: 18 Scenes & A Song (The Nest)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

fragments Venue: The Nest (Alexandria NSW), Aug 7 – 9, 2014
Devisers: Ryan Carter, Jes Dalton, Hayley Sullivan, Sam Trotman
Cast: Ryan Carter, Jes Dalton, Hayley Sullivan, Sam Trotman

Theatre review
A narrative requires a sense of coherence, and coherence can in turn, be subjective. Fragments of I Am: 18 Scenes & A Song is an experimental work without a clear overarching story, but what its three performers portray over nineteen scenes can be construed as something that forms a persuasive whole. There is nothing to prevent us from interpreting each performer’s work as singular characters, but we can also think of them acting in altogether different roles at each appearance, considering the drastic transformations that can happen from one moment to another. On this experimental stage, we are free to choose how we read, and what we deem to be relevant would probably be based on personal judgments, although it is noteworthy that in the freedom of form explored here, nothing is wrong and everything is right, no matter what approach we choose.

There is a lot of anxiety in the piece. The artists’ youthful need to explore meanings in life and art contains a sense of urgency and desperation that makes for thoughtful theatre as well as satisfying entertainment. Their interest in boundaries, confines and limits ensures an expression that feels fresh and creative, although the sense of transgression that one expects from such themes is slightly tame in this production. We anticipate something more in the vein of Gina Pane and Marina Abramović’s legacies but they never venture that far, perhaps this is where theatre and performance art diverge. We are impressed however, by the unorthodox warehouse-like venue they have chosen, and their barely-there wardrobe on the occasion of Sydney’s chilliest winter nights.

The cast’s execution of their own text and ideas is quietly accomplished. There is a sense of ease to the team’s presentation that results from having established clearly what they wish to achieve but their show feels strangely subdued. There is a wildness that feels too contained, although their depiction of mundanity is beautifully manipulated to look bizarre and alienated. The ordinariness of daily life is brought into question, and we are encouraged to examine our concepts of normality with a new distrust for things that are usually axiomatic.

The work is concerned with violence and human connection. Permeating all the action is a sense of loneliness that often results in brutality of some description. To make the statement that we are a species characterised by self-destruction is grim but honest. Asserting that our modern inhumanity comes from an inability to understand one another, is poignant and powerful.

www.ink361.com/thenestcreativespace

7Aug2014

Review: Joan, Again (Subtlenuance / Sydney Independent Theatre Company)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Aug 5 – 23, 2014
Playwright: Paul Gilchrist
Director: Paul Gilchrist
Cast: Kit Bennett, Jamie Collette, Ted Crosby, Kitty Hopwood, Lynden Jones, Sylvia Keays, Bonnie Kellett, David Kirkham, Helen Tonkin
Images by Katy Green Loughrey, Liam O’Keefe, Daniela Giorgi

Theatre review (originally published at Auditorium Magazine)
Paul Gilchrist’s new script is deeply philosophical. It asks many big questions, all of which affects our lives, but most do not come easily into daily discourse. These are themes that can be difficult to communicate, for despite their universality, the diversity in beliefs often means that unexpected conflict may result. Also, these concepts of truth, religion, spirituality, death, identity, gender, kinship, time, and so forth, are constantly shifting and elusive, and therefore impossible to resolve. Conversation without resolution or agreement is always a challenge in polite society, which means that many of these piquant parts of life are left to the likes of academics and artists to explore at depth. Indeed, it is a responsibility of art to think about these matters, and to present to us, perspectives that may challenge our own.

Through the landscape of war, and the appearance of a woman claiming to be Joan of Arc ten years after her famed execution, Gilchrist’s play asks political, social and personal questions and unpacks modern day attitudes about, well, everything. The script is always loaded with meaning, and while it might be difficult to discover the author’s own beliefs in every line, we are consistently provoked to react with our own judgment and ideology. Not much happens in the story, but our intellect is exhausted by its end. The strength of the writing is in its ability to expose the incoherence and injustices of our world, without obvious agenda or tiresome pontification. Gilchrist’s work has many delightfully sharp lines that need to be revisited if only to commit to memory, but more significantly, it is concentrated with analysis and poignancy that speak volumes of truth that its characters struggle to navigate.

Gilchrist’s direction creates a dynamic theatre with distinct and colourful personalities that keep us fascinated. Moments of comedy and drama are executed with precision, so that the show varies regularly in tone, and is kept at a comfortable pace. Acting as both playwright and director allows a very specific interpretation of the text, but it also raises issues for performance. There is a lack of organic energy in the piece, and chemistry between players is laboured. The cast does not always find a mode of articulation that feels genuine. When interpretations are reproduced from preconceived ideas instead of more fundamental and experiential processes, characters are less unconvincing and their stories can become difficult to decipher. Gilchrist’s direction also needs to have greater confidence and commitment in his comedy that is too often underplayed, which is a shame as there is potential for much bigger laughs in his writing. By the same token, the profundity of his script needs greater emphasis as they can be quite elaborate. A writer mulls over their work over long periods, and to condense that vision into two or three hours for an audience that arrives with only a blank slate, requires a very fresh pair of eyes. Gilchrist expresses himself marvelously but one wonders if an intermediary would provide more effective elucidation.

Kit Bennett plays Therese, a young woman of very few words who suffers from the indignity of being tagged the “village idiot”. Her performance is remembered for a level of authenticity that her colleagues do not manage. Bennett encourages intrigue and empathy, forming a connection with the audience that is strangely persistent. She speaks little but her presence is always strong and her reactions meticulous. One wonders if it is the lack of lines that provides her the freedom to create something that is more personal and with more truth as an actor. Gilchrist has crafted a brilliantly complex role with Therese. She is surprising, almost disarmingly so, but her contradictions actually feel very realistic.

Joan is central to much of the narrative, and Sylvia Keays brings to it an ambiguous zen-like quality that works interestingly on levels of narrative and philosophy but we are left craving for a deeper understanding of her character’s psychology and motivations. Keays is at her most compelling when soliloquising, showing an excellent affiliation with the writing and themes. There is a defiance that seems slightly mild but her lack of aggression makes for a more textured and unanticipated experience of the character. Also charming is Lynden Jones whose subtle yet biting portrayal of Cardinal Theobald grabs our attention at every appearance. The irony in his lines could be performed more extravagantly but the creepy hypocrisy that seeps through Jones’ every pore is sickeningly irresistible.

Helen Tonkin as Isabelle, delivers a memorable and moving speech about lives lost at war. The play’s antiwar sentiment is strong. It discusses the damage worn by societies as a result of combat, and the meanings we derive from manufacturing war heroes. In honouring the dead and those who return victorious, we face the inevitably of assigning glory to destruction, but responding with an antithetical passivity and apathy is unwise. The pursuit of peace may be the greatest vocation of humankind, and the quest for it may never appear within easy reach, but there simply is no responsibility more noble, and no undertaking more necessary than the attainment of justice and fairness for all.

www.sitco.net.au | www.subtlenuance.com

Joan, Again 2014 Subtlenuance

5Aug2014

Review: Macbeth (Sydney Theatre Company)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

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Venue: Sydney Theatre at Walsh Bay (Sydney NSW), Jul 21 – Sep 27, 2014
Playwright: William Shakespeare
Director: Kip Williams
Cast: Paula Arundell, Kate Box, Ivan Donato, Eden Falk, John Gaden, Melita Jurisic, Robert Menzies, Hugo Weaving
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review (originally published Auditorium Magazine Peace Issue 2014)
In the process of art-making, it is often the spirit of experimentation that elevates a work to heights of significance and esteem. Major theatre companies around the world with greater access to funding and other resources do not always prioritise innovation in their repertoire, often choosing instead to deliver entertainment that their patrons would readily embrace. The decision to stage a version of Shakespeare’s Macbeth with a prominent actor in the title role, exemplifies the kind of tension that exists where a show’s anticipated mass popularity and the expectations that come along with it, threatens the commitment to artistic risk, in the trepidation of alienating audiences or indeed, underestimating their ability to relate to unconventional interpretations.

Kip Williams’ direction of the piece reflects an awareness of the diversity in his audience’s tastes. Shakespeare is left untainted and the celebrity actor is given ample room to flex his dramatic muscles for his legions of fans, but the stage is thoroughly explored around those prerequisites. Williams gives the crowd what they have come for, but also offers up fresh concepts and unexpected flourishes that prevent the production from ever appearing unoriginal or unambitious. Williams’ vision does not rewrite the 400 year-old play, and neither does it add significantly to its themes and ideas, but he uses the text to explore the nature of the art form in all its physical and emotive possibilities. The audience’s early excitement is further amplified, when we discover upon stepping into the venue, that our tickets point to seats located on the stage itself, and we are positioned so that the auditorium come into full view and our more familiar chairs have become the backdrop. The meaning of this radical reversion is open and unexplained, but it seems the director wishes to keep us close to the action by placing us directly on stage with the performers.

The production begins as though we are observing a casual reading, with the only discernible element of set design being a simple table (that seems to find its way into every rehearsal space). The cast appears in nondescript clothing, looking more regular than average Joes on the streets of Sydney. None of the grandeur of fictitious kingdoms, or the formalities associated with Shakespeare are present. Disappointment in the production’s minimalism is soon dispelled when the first murder takes place, and a series of fantastical effects begins to unfold. Supernaturalism figures heavily in Shakespeare’s writing, and the depiction of a world that is half earth, half hell is a striking gesture from Williams’ directorial hand. His ghostly atmospherics are deftly created by production designer Alice Babidge’s ingenuity, together with the adventurous efforts of lighting designer Nick Schlieper and the insidious talents of Max Lyandvert, composer and sound designer. It comes as no surprise that Sydney Theatre Company delivers a technically proficient show, but the stage craft in their production of Macbeth, shows flair and intuition in addition to expertise.

Hugo Weaving as Macbeth is absolutely captivating, perhaps unsurprisingly so. The role is wildly imagined and Weaving’s impressive range is exposed dramatically. The actor’s control of voice and body is confident and skilled, and his thorough exploration of the text translates into a dynamic performance that keeps us delighted and entertained. Acting on this stage is professional and committed, but characters are distant. We watch their stories with fascination, but we are not always emotionally engaged. Performances are thoughtful and calculated, but they do not always resonate viscerally, and can sometimes lack an intuitive energy. Weaving’s work in the “dagger scene” is clear in its motivations, showing us the onset of the character’s descent into madness, but the impending consequences that befall him do not translate with enough power. We do not sense sufficiently the grave danger that awaits him, but when emotions of regret take hold later in the piece, Weaving’s mastery truly shines.

The other famed soliloquy, Lady Macbeth’s sleepwalking scene, is similarly underwhelming. Melita Jurisic plays her role with an alluring extravagance, but the heightened lunacy at her final scene feels almost too predictable after presenting a Lady Macbeth who had already seemed quite deranged from the start. Nevertheless, Jurisic’s intensity adds a sensational energy of avant-gardism that gives the production a sophisticated modern edge. Her anti-naturalist style fits beautifully with the show’s paranormal quality, and the toughness that she injects into the role keeps us mesmerised. Paula Arundell crosses gender and ethnic boundaries to play a compelling Banquo. Arundell’s work has a natural authenticity that helps create a character that is consistently believable, and her considerable stage presence gives Banquo an effortless palpability. Her star quality is pronounced even at the scene of the feast, where she plays an apparition, wordless and with little movement. There is an appealing stillness that she delivers, which our eyes very readily gravitate towards.

Williams’ use of space is a greater achievement than his use of Shakespeare’s script. His determination and love for theatrical experimentation is exhilarating to witness, and while his concepts might have been inspired by Macbeth, they can appear quite divorced from the text itself. Furthermore, the story and its characters often feel subsumed by the grandness of his aspirations. The narrative is a majestic one and it resists abatement. We want to be swept away by its drama and tragedy, but our indulgence in all the spectacle takes precedence and our senses struggle to form a meaningful reconciliation between form and content. This is a strong production with artistic merit emerging from all aspects and faculties, and although it connects more with our senses that it does with our emotions, what we see and hear is utterly breathtaking.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au