Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Mar 14 – Apr 26, 2015
Playwrights: Jada Alberts, Anne-Louise Sarks
Director: Anne-Louise Sarks
Cast: Linda Cropper, Ursula Mills, Hunter Page-Lochard, Katherine Tonkin, Ben Winspear
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review (originally published at Auditorium Magazine)
Classic Greek tragedies depict life at its extremities to explore the human condition. Elektra and Orestes are siblings, separated by grievous circumstances, but eventually united by a need for revenge. The death of their father King Agamemnon had torn the family apart. Murdered by their mother Clytemnestra and her lover Aegisthus, the legacy is one of blood drenched tragedy. In Jada Alberts and Anne-Louise Sarks’ retelling of the ancient tale, the female voice is given emphasis by placing attention on Clytemnestra’s narrative. The traditional villain is given fresh dimension, and the convenient diminishment of her person is transformed so that her legend is presented much closer in essence to our common beings. For centuries, men have ruled the world, and women’s stories are used to serve their purposes. Today, Clytemnestra states her case, and although Agamemnon’s demise remains unforgivable, we gain an understanding of her often buried rationale and arguments.

In addition to providing a new perspective, Alberts and Sarks’ script successfully creates a language that blends classic sensibilities with today’s colloquialisms. Combining the flavours from an epic yesteryear with contemporary domesticity, Elektra / Orestes invites us to relate to its royal characters with a new familiarity. They speak like we do, so their circumstances, although extraordinary, become accessible. The work intends to put focus on the parallels between us and them, finding points of connection through our attitudes toward family discord, and with its emotional universality. Although not unique to the genre, intense sentiments and passionate expression are characteristic. Direction of the piece by Sarks attempts to adapt that extravagant mode of performance for the updated context, with mixed results. Conversations in the play are often pedestrian in style, but with a heavy undertone coloured by sorrow, remorse and fury. The narrative is communicated with crystal clarity but the rejection of a more consistently melodramatic approach requires of its audience, a stronger reliance on logic, thereby sacrificing the more potent visceral effects of being in the presence of rupturing emotion. The story remains engaging, but one questions its relevance when told in a more subdued manifestation.

Performances are generally of a polished standard, but some of its characters are not sufficiently convincing. Linda Cropper as Clytemnestra shines in the second act when her warmer maternal qualities are called upon for a scene of tenderness, but the queen is never quite majestic and intimidating enough. The love for her children is evident, but it is difficult to believe that she is capable of committing the atrocity for which she is known for. Her son, Orestes is played by Hunter Page-Lochard whose star quality is clear to see. He makes his entrance at midpoint after much anticipation, but his interpretation needs greater depth in order for it to live up to our expectations of a broken young man caught in an enormously painful situation. Page-Lochard portrays the confusion of his role with excellent energy, but the qualities of anger and sadness crucial to his narrative does not reach its necessary boiling point. The complex character of Elektra is managed creatively by Katherine Tonkin whose unconventional choices give the show its cool, unconventional feel. Tonkin’s focused conviction is the propulsive force that keeps the entire first act moving quickly and unpredictably, but her chemistry with colleagues is not always strong. Elektra is the instigator of many moments of conflict, and the drama only comes when she manages to make the sparks fly.

The production is minimally designed, with a set by Ralph Myers that conveys a brutal coldness, and in spite of its simplicity, an impression of great wealth and status is achieved by a sense of sophisticated precision. The whiteness of its many bare surfaces represents an emptiness in the household that is waiting to be disrupted. Stage blood is introduced to upset the uncomfortable serenity, but it must be noted that its use is oddly restrained. The space, and the story, demand a bolder attack of red that do not materialise. Sound and lights are similarly conservative. The production is elegant in style, but greater tension could be achieved with a more vivid use of those design elements.

Vengeance is the darkest of human propensities. It is an urge that can be incredibly persuasive, but the price to pay for it afterwards is high, not least of which are the inevitable repercussive effects on the conscience. Sixteenth century philosopher Francis Bacon said that “in taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior”. The challenge for the wronged is to find salvation without any dependency on the perpetrator’s state of mind or being. We experience this struggle on many levels, from our very personal selves, to the nationalistic ways our governments operate. Religion might lose its resonance with every passing year, but beliefs about the power of forgiveness are true and eternal.

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

Elektra / Orestes 2015 Belvoir Street Theatre

www.belvoir.com.au

Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Jan 3 – Feb 8, 2015
Playwright: Louis Nowra
Director: Leah Purcell
Cast: Leah Purcell, Shari Sebbens, Miranda Tapsell
Image by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
Our relationships with parents may not all be bad, but they are certainly complex. Louis Nowra’s Radiance offers a look at the way one woman’s human errors reverberate for generations after, and accordingly, we observe the inevitable karmic inheritance from predecessors. Cressy, Mae and Nona are three sisters who have reunited in North Queensland for their mother’s funeral. Their personalities are vastly different, and there is no shortage of friction as they navigate their rare time together in the old house where they had grown up. Nowra’s script is dramatic and sensual, with an aggressive but beautiful energy that surprises in a milieu that is frequently dark and plagued with anxiety.

Leah Purcell’s direction suffers from her additional responsibilities as actor in the role of Cressy. The play is uneven, with group dynamics feeling lacklustre even though the portrayal of closeness between the women is successful. Their interchanges are believable but come across oddly tame, notwithstanding some quite sensational themes. There is an understated elegance to the piece, but it is needlessly subdued, with many missed opportunities for bigger laughs and more heightened drama. It is noteworthy however, that Purcell is able to find authenticity in the writing, and the emotions of the text are adequately played out so that we feel in touch with the essence of the narrative, despite the scarcity of a sense of theatricality.

As actor, Purcell is never convincing as an opera diva who has found success overseas, and her overly restrained interpretation not only does little to embody class, it also detracts from some of the more flamboyant sections of the play. Fortunately, Purcell’s ability to deliver gravity in key revelatory moments holds our attention, and she gives the plot an enjoyable coherence. Middle child Mae is played by Shari Sebbens whose presence is noticeably weaker than her counterparts’. Her work is focused and strong, but her depiction of seriousness can read a little dreary, and consequently, her character becomes too distant. On the other hand, the youngest role of Nona is engagingly and empathetically performed by Miranda Tapsell, who connects with us from her very first entrance. The vibrancy she introduces to her scenes is remarkable, if only that energy is sustained by the other players. Tapsell has an easy confidence that keeps us on her side, and the compassion she brings to her character allows us to believe the extraordinary circumstances we witness unfolding.

Sound design by Brendan O’Brien is thorough and thoughtful, adding a dimension to the show that facilitates the articulation of a complicated and deep emotional universe. Dale Ferguson’s set is sophisticatedly beautiful, but his design forces a substantial portion of the play to be performed quite far upstage, prohibiting us from getting more involved.

Louis Nowra’s script is undeniably rich and seductive. It deals with familiar difficulties of real life, but the world it inhabits is almost exotic. Radiance uncovers a wildness that exists in our own homes, one that hides in plain sight yet begs to be examined. Secrets are associated with shame, but it is the abandonment of shame that will ultimately set us free.

www.belvoir.com.au

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