Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Aug 21 – Sep 21, 2014
Dramaturg: Paul Jackson
Director: Adena Jacobs
Cast: Peter Carroll, Andrea Demetriades
Image by Pia Johnson

Theatre review
Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex is a classic tragedy remembered for its themes of fate and incest. Adena Jacobs’ sequel is a vision haunted by a blind and elderly Oedipus in throes of despair, suffering a living hell. His daughter, and sister, Antigone is his carer and companion, but the play features little conversation and no writer is credited. It is poetic and visual theatre, with influence from installation and performance art. Designer Paul Jackson’s creation is a bare clinical space that evokes the cruel agony of hospitals and bureaucratic offices. Ugly false ceiling panels with strategically positioned fluorescent tubes and halogen bulbs provide spine-chilling illumination that emphasise the horrific existence of the man who had been king. The 70-minute experimental work owes more to the paintings of Edvard Munch and Francis Bacon than it does Greek stage traditions. Meaning is created through imagery and sound, with spoken languages taking a back seat. Max Lyandvert’s involvement as composer and sound designer is not always prominent but his efforts are tremendously affecting, and when he does take centre stage, there is no hesitation to grab us by our core to deliver moments of astonishment.

The abstraction in Jacobs’ piece allows for numerous interpretations but the detailed and confronting depiction of an old man under palliative care addresses our universal mortality. The presence and sight of veteran actor Peter Carroll’s bare flesh resonates deeply. Our bodies unite us, and his vulnerable thinness is a visceral reminder of every person’s imminent and inevitable deterioration. The play’s muted narrative opens up the ways in which we can relate to Oedipus. When we no longer see him only as a man with specific circumstances, we are able to recognise more intimately the pain he embodies, and his torment speaks to us all, for true suffering requires no context to connect.

Oedipus Rex is the tour de force of a remarkable actor. Carroll’s performance is powerful and mesmerising, with more depth than any audience can deplete. There is enough drama in every fibre of his being to render narratives gratuitous. His director’s wisdom has allowed the production to strip back on storytelling and rely instead on the actor’s charisma and skill to impress upon us, the essence and soul of this artistic triumph. Carroll’s work is fearless, authentic and assertive, with a sense of traditional Asian theatre forms that focus on the craft of performance itself, rather than using it as a vehicle for saying something else. In this case, we are utterly enthralled by the man on stage, but also aware of the text’s subliminal messages. Antigone is played by Andrea Demetriades who provides solid support. The chemistry between both actors is outstanding, and the palpable trust they have harnessed is the source of many instances of frisson that occur throughout this thoroughly fascinating show.

We indulge in tragic stories because there is an intense beauty that resides in the darkness that befalls the innocent. There is an understanding that bad things can happen to good people, and as much as we strive for goodness, what results may not always be guaranteed. Life is dangerous, because it is uncertain. The ambiguity and risk in Adena Jacobs’ work puts her art in a position that challenges her audience, as well as the state of art production in our communities. Theatre often becomes too predictable and too lazy, and we need agents provocateur like Jacobs and Oedipus Rex to keep it alive.

www.belvoir.com.au

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

Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Jun 28 – Aug 3, 2014
Playwright: Adena Jacobs (from Henrik Ibsen)
Director: Adena Jacobs
Cast: Branden Christine, Lynette Curran, Ash Flanders, Marcus Graham, Anna Houston, Oscar Redding, Tim Walter
Images by Ellis Parrinder

Theatre review (originally published at auditoriummag.com)
Not every audience member would know what Ibsen’s story is about, but virtually everyone who enters the Belvoir Street venue would be aware, even before the show commences, that the main woman on this occasion, is played by a leading man . Gender subversion remains controversial in the twenty-first century. We all invest on a deeply personal level, gendered concepts that are applied to our daily lives, both consciously and unconsciously. Adena Jacobs’ Hedda Gabler is strange. Like the unusual casting decision, Jacobs’ work resists conventions, expectations and sometimes, comprehension. It is easy to be dismissive of Jacobs’ artistic decisions when they are unexplained and mystifying, but to paraphrase the art critic Robert Hughes, “no painting that is of any quality can be easy to understand because the value of a painting is its ability to expand one’s experience, and so if it were easy to understand, then it would fall within what you already knew.”

Within the landscape of Australian theatre, Jacobs’ creation is a valuable one that deals with issues of feminism, transgenderism, racism, and social aspirations. Before the show begins, a television set on stage plays what looks to be a telenovela. We see a wedding taking place in the soap opera, as well as familiar archetypes arguing and displaying exaggerated emotion. The stories it tells have been told thousands of times before, with unchanging dramatic arcs and predictable conclusions. Jacobs’ work reinvents dynamics and mechanisms, using a 120-year-old text as starting point. What happens to Ibsen’s characters do not change, but how they are presented is drastically overhauled. The production bears a severe and muted tone, almost rejecting any empathy from its audience. We are encouraged to observe, but feelings are sacrificed for contemplation. We react in a way that is diametrically opposed to the experience of watching bad television. Impotent passivity becomes political action.

In an environment of “strangeness”, the viewer’s mind goes into overdrive, persistently questioning artistic choices, and ceases to be a receptacle for easy entertainment. The director’s hand is prominent. Much as we ponder the enigma of Hedda, we never stop wondering what Jacobs wishes to say. Her message is not a straightforward one, which results in a play memorable for its depth and complexity, although there is no question that many would find her approach daunting. Big issues cannot be reduced into easily digestible morsels if their essence are to be retained, but battles must be chosen wisely, and some might consider the aggressively alienating nature of Jacobs’ Hedda Gabler to be self-defeating.  The conviction of her vision however, is undeniable, and the idiosyncratic style evident in this staging demonstrates an originality that must not be buried.

Dayna Morrissey’s set design provides an appropriately sterile beauty to Hedda’s world. It conveys luxurious decadence, but also a distant coolness that is reflective of her disconnection from that world. Action is kept away from the audience. We want a better understanding of the characters but they are always around the house or in the car, both located far upstage, claustrophobic and inaccessible. These people do not connect with each other, and it follows that we too are estranged. Danny Pettingill’s lights are glamorous but rarely warm. It is a cruel and chilly kind of beauty that is achieved, one that speaks volumes about Hedda’s depressive state. Costumes by David Fleischer are oddly naturalistic, especially on the male characters. Thought is put into exposing Hedda’s body rather than concealing it, which is remarkably intriguing, but its aesthetics seem an uncomfortable match against the sophistication created by set and lights.

Performances in the piece vary subtly in style and tone between actors. Each appears almost to be starring in individual shows, thereby enhancing the quality of isolation in each character. Marcus Graham is an exuberant Judge Brack. Complete with toothy grin and a Hollywood tan, Graham plays up the role’s artifice and disingenuity with flair. Brack’s falseness is cunning and understated, but also doubtless. Eilert Lovborg is played with great conviction and vigour by the effortlessly magnetic Oscar Redding. His portrayal is the most dramatic of the group, leaving a strong impression with the only truthful outpouring of emotion in the production.

Ash Flanders as Hedda Gabler is highly provocative, but does not embody his character with great authenticity. His work is quite literally a drag act, where a performer pretends to be singing, dancing or acting, while pretending also to be “the opposite sex”. His work seems to emulate legendary film actors like Greta Garbo, Marlene Dietrich and Joan Crawford, which is an interesting fit for a production that often takes stylistic cues from classic cinema. Hedda’s famed mysteriousness suits Flanders’ method, as he hides more than is revealed, but his presence lacks the allure and power of those movie stars who were able to achieve a great deal while appearing to be doing very little. Flanders is seen half naked for most of the duration, which prevents us from forgetting the contentious dimension of gender being discussed. Having a man play an Ibsen woman is a novelty at this particular point in time, but it also makes a poignant statement. Hedda is a tragic heroine created by a man, with her victimisation and subsequent demise inflicted by her playwright. The surest way for a feminist interpretation of the text is either to reconstruct it radically, or simply not to have a woman play the part at all. Maybe this is a role that makes better sense when taken on by a man.

Branden Christine is the only actor not of Caucasian appearance. She plays Berta, the maid who barely speaks but exudes a silent but impactful tension. The colour of her skin, along with the stark degraded social position she occupies is challenging, if not purposefully antagonising. The production makes several powerful statements, and the one about ethnic discrimination is unintended by Ibsen, but is central to this staging.

This is a work about freedom, and its opposite. It exposes the way people come under each other’s control, and depicts the struggle for an idealistic life in the most pessimistic manner. There is however, more than a glimmer of hope that exists in the form of the production’s transgressions. Revolution happens when oppressive structures are dismantled. Jacobs’ efforts at inventing a new theatrical language, and her interpretation of the classic text, propels theatre towards something far greater than recreation. It improves culture and political discourse. Points of comfort in our shared notions of art are the canary in a coal mine, which this production of Hedda Gabler locates and unleashes upon them, ruthless waves of disruption.

www.belvoir.com.au

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Hedda Gabler 2014 Belvoir

Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), May 24 – Jun 22, 2014
Playwright: Jada Alberts
Director: Leah Purcell
Actors: Cramer Cain, Lisa Flanagan, Rarriwuy Hick, Hunter Page-Lochard, Bjorn Stewart
Image by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
Jada Alberts’ play is about family, poverty and depression. It is also a coming-of-age story about masculinity in Australia’s Northern Territory. Alberts’ characters are lively and refreshing, with a vernacular that is rarely heard on our stages, yet it accurately reflects the way many of us speak in daily lives. The play has a charming realism. It makes the familiar seem fascinating, and regular people become interesting.

Lisa Flanagan plays Petra, a vibrant woman of substance. Flanagan’s presence is immediate and robust, and she plays her role with great precision and versatility. Her sharply confident comic timing introduces an excellent levity, and her tears leave a lasting impression. The clear highlight of the show however, is Hunter Page-Lochard’s performance as lead character Ruben. Ruben is an underprivileged young man receiving psychotherapy treatment after becoming embroiled in a traumatic event. Unable to acknowledge and verbalise his emotions, Ruben’s grief manifests in destructive behaviour, resulting in disharmony at home and discord with local authorities. Page-Lochard inhabits his character to astonishing authenticity. His use of voice, movement and facial expressions present a level of believability that is deeply impressive, and powerfully captivating . There is also a sense of drama and tension in his work that demonstrate a natural propensity for the actor to entertain and connect. Page-Lochard is interested in portraying something truthful, but is also mindful of showmanship. To find that fabulous combination in a young indigenous actor is incredibly exciting.

Direction by Leah Purcell places emphasis on the quality of performances. There is an obvious purity and sincerity in the actors’ work, and the ensemble chemistry provides a beautiful closeness to the family being depicted on stage. Purcell, like Alberts, sensitively crafts an effective realism, but the play lacks a certain theatricality to elevate it from our everyday mundanity. The script requires greater tension and suspense, and both director and playwright could experiment with more imaginative devices to engage us more creatively. A great deal of depth is established in the play’s characters and relationships, but a more adventurous approach to telling their stories would give them more dimension and dynamism.

It is important that stories like Brothers Wreck are told. We need to learn about the underclasses and they must always be given a platform to represent their perspectives, and to develop their artistry. Young men like Ruben are damaged not by nature, but by our sociopolitical dysfunctions. It is a most pressing priority for our nation, that their voices be found, and be emboldened.

www.belvoir.com.au