Tag Archives: comedy

Review: Out Of Gas On Lovers Leap (The Kings Collective)

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thekingscollectiveVenue: TAP Gallery (Darlinghurst NSW), Sep 9 – 14, 2014
Writer: Mark St. Germain
Director: Grace Victoria
Cast: David Harrison, Cecelia Peters
Image by Kate Williams Photography

Theatre review
USA in the 1980s was a time of great prosperity, when greed was good and the pursuit of riches seemed the only valid way of life. The pragmatism of money encouraged the dismantling of family units, and children grew up in the care of hired help, while parents explored possibilities in thriving economies. Mark St. Germain’s Out Of Gas On Lovers Leap is a lamentation that looks at two high school sweethearts, Myst and Grouper. Both characters are created with excellent depth and their backgrounds thoroughly elucidated. The script is dark and dangerous, with the aimless and misguided teenage couple discussing confronting subjects like abortion and suicide, and indulging in sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll before our eyes.

The play is about the gravity in these young lives, but Grace Victoria’s direction allows too much frivolity. The production is entertaining, and extremely high energy, but the dark nuances of the text is often lost. We hear the disturbing details of the dialogue but they do not resonate with a sense of urgency and tension. The cast is vibrant and enthusiastic, but they are not given enough instruction and the deeper social connotations of the story are sacrificed for a lot of clamour and amusement.

Cecelia Peters plays Myst, the talented daughter of a pop music celebrity. Peters’ fervour for comedy keeps the show buoyant, and she pushes effectively to create a sense of excitement. Her emotions are intensely portrayed, but not always appropriately so. The role of her boyfriend Grouper is performed by David Harrison, who is equally effervescent. There is a focus to his work that gives it a sense of polish, and he forms a complementary team with Peters, even if sexual chemistry between the two is a little lacking.

Entertainment is an important factor in assessing a theatrical work’s efficacy, and in the case of Out Of Gas On Lovers Leap, its cast does well at keeping us engaged. Not everything on stage needs to have poignancy and profundity but Mark St. Germain’s script requires a treatment that is more sensitive. The message is a serious one, and it needs to be presented with greater severity. The production concludes well, with Peters and Harrison showing wonderful commitment in the final scene, although a change in tone does occur suddenly. It is now thirty years after that fateful night at Lovers Leap, and Generation X is in its middle age, bringing up its own children. The circle of life may be perpetual, but questions relating to the heredity of emotional and psychological damage become increasingly relevant.

www.thekingscollective.com.au

Review: Unholy Ghosts (White Box Theatre / Griffin Theatre Company)

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griffintheatreVenue: SBW Stables Theatre (Kings Cross NSW), Aug 27 – Sep 20, 2014
Playwright: Campion Decent
Director: Kim Hardwick
Cast: Robert Alexander, James Lugton, Anna Volska
Image by Danielle Lyonne

Theatre review (originally published at Auditorium Magazine)
We often go to the theatre for a dose of fantasy. It can be escapism that we seek, or a quest for inspiration, and it becomes easy to conceive of fantasy as a thing severed from daily lives where in fact, nothing can make good sense unless it bases itself in reality. Campion Decent’s Unholy Ghosts is mostly autobiographical. It deals with family and death, probably the most real of all concepts to undertake, and also the most difficult of things to articulate. Through art and the guise of theatrical fantasy, Decent enacts a way to analyse, heal and mourn the inevitable but deepest losses one can experience.

Family ties are uniquely challenging. Some of us are gifted more pleasant circumstances than others, but we all understand the unyielding nature of those bonds. Regardless of time and distance, only a very few can truly claim to have made clean cuts from their closest blood relations. We all know what family can make us feel, and it is that intensity of love (and hate) that makes Unholy Ghosts immutable and its effects inescapable. Decent’s writing is humorous but gentle, with a sublime melancholy that appeals to the tenderest of our sentiments. Its thorough honesty is quite confronting. We cannot resist empathising, which means that we cannot help but reflect upon the ones we hold dear, and the invisible, but persistently lingering notion of death that threatens and surrounds us.

The characters are named in the programme simply as Son, Mother and Father, and the script provides what seems to be factual information about their lives and defining events through the years, including the tragic passing of the unseen Daughter. It is a compilation of Decent’s recollections, as well as invented scenarios that help with gaining insight, or at least to find some kind of understanding, so that pain can be tamed and the living can move on. The play’s structure is hugely enjoyable. The confusion between fact and fiction, laughter and tears, victims and wrongdoers, creates a complexity that is undeniably resonant in its familiarity.

Direction is provided by Kim Hardwick, who does an excellent job of locating comedy and pathos in every moment, and allowing them to co-exist in an unusual harmony. Liberal amounts of dark humour pervades the stage, but there is also a surprising compassion that always makes its presence felt. We see resentment, anger and bitterness in the family members, but their conflicts only exist for a love that requires resolution. The intimacy of the space gives the audience easy access to the people on stage, and their terrific chemistry keeps us spellbound. Hardwick has achieved the remarkable feat of crafting a show where we fall for all of its characters at first sight. Unholy Ghosts is unashamedly sentimental, but it is also thoughtful. There are very strong emotions that surface towards the conclusion, but they are not of the wallowing type. The play keeps a level head, always maintaining a level of self-examination, which makes the sadness much more profound.

James Lugton plays the Son, a version of the playwright himself. Lugton’s emotional fortitude is a great asset to the production, for he lets us see the depth of suffering a person endures without a need for predictable and obvious gesturing. The strength he portrays is so genuine and pronounced, that it conveys the sorrow that he cannot reveal. The more he strives to keep a positive outlook, the more we hurt. It is a confident performance that deceives us with its relaxed nonchalance. It looks the opposite of melodrama, but its results are more affecting. There are moments however, where the actor seems to lose focus and he trips over lines several times, causing one to wonder if certain sections are less rehearsed. Also periodically distracted is Robert Alexander who plays Father, but like Lugton, his lapses are negligible. Alexander’s work is colourful, and the miserly man he depicts is charmingly comical and unexpectedly likable. The accuracy at which he performs the role of the “regular older man”, is brilliantly reminiscent of the literal and figurative fathers of our lives, complete with annoying quirks and disappointing imperfections. There are actors who win us over even before their first scene finishes, and Alexander is a shining example. His charisma is magical, and partnered with a clear affection for the stage, his creation is one that endears and impresses.

Mother is a creature of flamboyance and mischief, who had bought her son the Bette Midler book, A View From A Broad for his sixteenth birthday. The divine Anna Volska is electrifying. Her work ranges from outlandish and grotesque, to delicate and introspective. It is a tremendous role, and the actor fulfills every brief and requirement. Volska delivers many instances of sheer hilarity, but the delicious poignancy she invokes at every appearance is unforgettable.

Visual design is minimal and unobtrusive. No great flair is showcased, but nothing feels lacking. Sound design assists well with mood changes but several keyboard interludes are slightly too conspicuous and outmoded. In the final scene, lighting makes a drastic transformation to accompany the uplifting end. The choice to shift tone so extravagantly is questionable. It is clear that optimism and the celebration of life is a key message, but stating the case so literally may not be necessary. Also unnecessary is the compulsion to release the audience in such upbeat fashion.

The play’s happy ending however, is solid and convincing. Whether exuberant or subdued, we understand the spiritual and psychological journey that Campion Decent has taken, and we appreciate the position of enlightenment he presents. Life ends and relationships end, and it is their brief temporality that gives them value. We only wish for something to last forever when we know that its end approaches. It is tempting to declare that nothing is eternal, but the fact is that art can outlive us, and great writing endures for generations. How splendid the thought that ghosts can prevail, if the artist’s life is well lived.

www.whiteboxtheatre.com.au | www.griffintheatre.com.au

Review: Out Of Fear (Night Sky Theatre Co)

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nightskytheatreVenue: TAP Gallery (Darlinghurst NSW), Sep 3 – 14, 2014
Writer: Dominic Witkop
Director: Garreth Cruikshank
Cast: Chris Miller, Kayla Stanton, Matt Thomson
Image by Geoff Sirmai

Theatre review
There are very dark themes in Dominic Witkop’s Out Of Fear, with murder and destruction in the family unit serving as inspiration. The writer explores masculine anxiety in a heavily surreal world that calls to mind David Lynch’s Lost Highway and its own Jekyll & Hyde references. Witkop’s narrative structure also borrows elements from Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club, such as its unusual take on the love triangle dynamic between two men and a femme fatale. The script is a brave attempt at something left of centre and while it does not avoid feeling derivative at times, it is certainly not run-of-the-mill. Witkop’s mise en scène is innovative, but the text requires further editing. A flair for words is only one of the aspects a playwright needs, and Out Of Fear lacks a greater theatricality in terms of the physicality and temporal dimensions of a live performance.

Direction of the work by Garreth Cruikshank aims to create a sense of conventional storytelling, with an emphasis on realism in character portrayal and development. This contradicts Witkop’s writing style, and misses the opportunity for a more visceral approach to performance. The people look like they exist in our world, but they speak as though from dreamland, with coherence proving a challenge. Surrealist theatre has evolved its own traditions and embellishments, but they are negated on this occasion, except for lighting design that attempts to add a more dramatic dimension to proceedings. Also dramatic is Chris Miller’s performance as Travis, whose energy levels are to be admired. The intensity of the role is a highlight of the production, and Miller’s enthusiasm for his character’s mania is fascinating, if a little repetitive. All three characters feel disappointingly distant, but Miller manages to keep us engaged in many of his scenes.

It is noteworthy that the play’s serious social implications do not overwhelm, and it is to the production’s credit that the work retains an experimental edge that prevents it from turning into something generic or melodramatic. On the other hand, a lost message could result in an exercise that feels somewhat inconsequential. Poignancy may elude it, but the work contains gravity, ambition and an earnestness that gives it a quiet lustre.

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Review: Harry & Liv (Glebe Justice Centre)

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harryliv1Venue: Glebe Justice Centre (Glebe NSW), Sep 3 – 6, 2014
Writer: Charlotte Kerr
Cast: Charlotte Kerr, Evan Kerr

Theatre review
Charlotte and Evan Kerr are siblings, and they portray Harry & Liv (also siblings) in this cabaret/musical theatre piece. Harry has been staying over at Liv’s home, causing the place to look a real mess. Harry enjoys being the thorn in his sister’s side, and his constant jibes irritate her as much as the clutter he has unleashed upon her living room. Their sibling rivalry is charming and their banter is entertaining, but the greatest consequence of their squabbles is the music they create around Liv’s exquisite grand piano.

As a work of musical theatre, Charlotte Kerr’s script is delightfully witty, but it would benefit from a narrative that develops more substantially. As a cabaret act, the duo is eminently likeable with very accomplished musical abilities. Charlotte Kerr’s confident and emotive voice has excellent range that sings with humour and beautiful sensitivity. Evan Kerr is a dynamic pianist who keeps the show lively and animated. Song choices can be a little obscure for those of us who are not connoisseurs of the genre, but they are delivered brilliantly, and we cannot help but be impressed by the artists’ thorough familiarity with the material.

It is the simplest of shows, but Harry & Liv is thoroughly enjoyable. The set is economically but effectively arranged and intimately lit, creating a comfortable homely feeling so that the audience is at ease and involved. Indeed, the Kerrs’ hospitality is warm and their company is wondrous. Their talent is the kind that cannot be adequately represented by recorded media, you really do have to be there.

www.facebook.com/harryandlivcabaret

Review: Sugarland (ATYP)

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atypVenue: ATYP (Walsh Bay NSW), Aug 27 – Sep 13, 2014
Playwright: Rachael Coopes, Wayne Blair
Director: Fraser Corfield, David Page
Cast: Narek Arman, Michael Cameron, Rachael Coopes, Elena Foreman, Hunter Page-Lochard, Dubs Yunupingu
Image by Tracey Schramm

Theatre review
Sugarland is a work about teenagers in Katherine, a remote town in the Northern Territory. The play is performed by young actors, aged 17 to 21, but written by adult artists who have studied the youth of the region over a two-year period. Rachael Coopes and Wayne Blair’s script is powerful in its authenticity, with controversial elements that resonate with a disarming honesty. The truths it reveals, both beautiful and ugly, would be challenging for any audience. Like most memorable work about teenagers, from Puberty Blues (Gabrielle Carey and Kathy Lette) to Kids (Larry Clark), it is the shocking transgressions they depict that leave an impression, and it is precisely the taboo nature of what is being discussed that makes these texts significant and valuable.

Directed by Fraser Corfield and David Page, the production is unexpectedly elegant and subdued. The confronting issues it tackles are not sensationalised. Instead, they are presented in a quietly pragmatic way so that we are prevented from feeling any sense of alienation from its characters. We are seduced into a deceptively cosy world, which in fact contains many aspects that disturb our middle class notions of conventions and acceptability. Corfield and Page’s achievement is in their creation of a political theatre that chooses to speak rationally, rather than to appeal with overblown emotion and hysterical expression. Their gentle approach allows the play’s message to seep through, and to strike a chord where dismissive delusions usually reside.

Performances are not always accomplished, but every actor’s creation on this stage is thoroughly fascinating. The teenage characters seem familiar, but we are provided rare insight into a depth that habitually evades public scrutiny. Dubs Yunupingu plays Nina, a disenfranchised high school girl of indigenous background. Yunupingu has a sensitive quality that we connect with, and a fragility that secures our empathy. The lack of pretension in her craft is refreshing and often very moving. The unhinged Jimmy is portrayed by Hunter Page-Lochard whose impressive presence gives the show a dangerous edge. Page-Lochard is an exuberant performer who brings an exciting unpredictability to his every appearance. Narek Arman is a jovial and charming actor, and his interpretation of the recent Iraqi migrant Aaron is a delightful contrast to the other moodier personalities.

The beginning of political action is awareness, and awareness begins at giving a voice to the disadvantaged. The isolated inhabitants of Sugarland cannot see the privileged lives of its Sydney audience, but their stories and adversities are told to us without ambiguity. They do not seem angry or claim to be desperate, but we know that every young Australian deserves more. The distinction between the haves and the have nots in this lucky country is an unequivocal disgrace, and the journey towards greater equity must be accelerated.

www.atyp.com.au

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

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mopheadVenue: 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

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

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littlespoonVenue: 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

Review: Constellations (Darlinghurst Theatre Company)

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darlinghursttheatreVenue: 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

Review: Bad Day Insurance (Old 505 Theatre)

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old505theatreVenue: 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

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

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fragmentsVenue: 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