Review: Low Level Panic (Thread Entertainment)

threadentertainmentVenue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Jul 12 – Aug 12, 2016
Playwright: Clare McIntyre
Director: Justin Martin
Cast: Geraldine Hakewill, Amy Ingram, Kate Skinner
Image by Julia Robertson

Theatre review
Three young women share a home, and in their interactions within the intimate setting of a shared bathroom, we come to understand their desires and insecurities, along with the obstacles they encounter in daily life that shape their respective sense of self. Jo, Mary and Celia are different in many ways, but they are all subject to the male gaze. Their heterosexuality locks them further into complicated entanglements with the opposite sex, and allows Claire McIntyre’s Low Level Panic to unpack issues of politics and misogyny for a look into the modern woman’s relationship with the world, and more particularly, with sex, and with her own body. The statements made in the play are nothing new; it is after all, close to three decades old, having first appeared in the late 80’s, but the experiences it portrays still feel accurate and its revelations remain raw.

Director Justin Martin’s production is innovative and exuberant, with bold staging devices that assist in making the play’s concepts more lucid and powerful. The introduction of social media as an instrument of oppression brings the story up to date, offering a frame of reference that we relate to readily. A team of seven men are positioned around the stage dressed like stagehands, but are in fact part of the show, always watching, and always insisting that their masculine presence not be dismissed. They purport to be invisible but are actually a menacing force that fuels the subtext of the women’s conversations. Martin’s theatrical embellishments are a pleasure; sensitive, intelligent and often witty, but being much more pronounced in the first half, later sequences feel suddenly stark, almost too plain to meet our heightened expectations.

Performances are passionately vivid. The marvellous Amy Ingram leaves a remarkable impression with her impeccable timing and disarming authenticity as Jo, a character with endearing vivacity who nonetheless suffers from the unfortunate, but all too common, obsession with her self-determined physical inadequacies. The actor brings a valuable dignity to a discussion that tends to present her role as a victim of circumstance, and her brilliant sense of humour is the spoonful of sugar that makes the caustic medicine go down. Geraldine Hakewill and Kate Skinner provide excellent support with contrasting portrayals of femininity that gives the text’s argument a complexity, by challenging our preconceptions of gender representation.

In Low Level Panic, we are witness not only to the fact of sexual objectification, but also the reinforcement of that prejudice against women, by the three housemates onto themselves. The Stockholm syndrome as applied to the reprehensible male gaze is a truth rarely spoken. Segregation and subjugation based on gender is one of the most entrenched foundations of patriarchy, even the enslaved is unable to recognise her own debasement. Bringing us to this realisation is where the play becomes radical, but how it leaves off is of great importance. In our individual and collective feminisms, the problem of the male gaze is addressed in divergent ways. None reigns supreme, but it is our very action of living feminist lives that is meaningful.

www.facebook.com/threadentertainment

Review: Cristina In The Cupboard (The Depot Theatre)

depottheatreVenue: The Depot Theatre (Marrickville NSW), Jul 13 – 30, 2016
Playwright: Paul Gilchrist
Director: Julie Baz
Cast: Nyssa Hamilton, Teale Howie, David Jeffrey, Emily McGowan, Tasha O’Brien, Sarah Plummer, Lucy Quill, Rachael Williams
Image by Katy Green Loughrey

Theatre review
We hear of people going on therapeutic retreats, travelling to the countryside, away from everyday city life, to find themselves. Some sound like lavish holidays disguised as spiritual endeavours, while others seem too challenging for mere mortals to even imagine, such as those who require individuals to be shut off from the world, speaking to no one at all for weeks on end. Cristina locks herself up in her cupboard, compelled to look inward, rejecting efforts to intervene from family and friends. She is determined to withdraw from the noise, and listen only to her own heart.

In Paul Gilchrist’s exceptional and very contemplative play Cristina In The Cupboard, we join a girl on her journey of self-discovery, as she asks all of life’s big questions and takes it upon herself to provide the answers. Like Cristina, the script is charming, intelligent and brave. It is an invaluable expression of the universal but private experience of introspection, giving form to something that is usually subconscious, so that our hidden and buried realities comes to light, and that we may begin to have a better understanding of our minds, along with a warmer regard for our souls.

The vibrant and imaginative production under Julie Baz’s direction works effectively at enhancing the ideas of the play, bringing lucidity to the many deep meditations therein. There are powerful and oftentimes complicated concepts that require the physical dimensions of theatre to put to effect, and Baz negotiates them successfully. Sections of the show could be dealt with with a lighter touch, but the overall impression it leaves is dynamic and surprisingly entertaining. Each of the production’s characters are well considered and delightfully detailed, for a stage that is consistently abuzz with adventure and life. It is a strong cast, featuring Emily McGowan in the title role portraying the demanding duality of girlish innocence and a remarkable wisdom. McGowan’s confident presence allows us to connect with her character’s unusual circumstances, and the precision at which she delivers her performance turns the show’s context of magical realism into something quite profoundly authentic.

Life is hard, and art alleviates suffering by letting us know that we are not alone. As we relate to Cristina’s struggles, we are consoled by the mutuality of all our concerns and anxieties, and in the process come to a re-acquaintance with humanity and its inevitable vulnerabilities. Without art, we are sold only false representations of life that tend only to make things even harder. It is no wonder that we have to hide away, to retreat into spaces of safety that can only be provided by the self, the truth, and everything we trust to be real art.

www.thedepottheatre.com

Review: Resident Alien (Seymour Centre)

seymourVenue: Seymour Centre (Chippendale NSW), Jul 12 – 23, 2016
Playwright: Tim Fountain
Director: Gary Abrahams
Cast: Paul Capsis

Theatre review
Quentin Crisp is the original and quintessential queer icon of our modern times. Wildly flamboyant and tenaciously outsider, he has left behind a legacy not only of words, but also an attitude and perspective of life that remains cutting edge and inspiring for subsequent generations that continue to be oppressed by the bourgeoisie and its prejudicial values. Tim Fountain’s Resident Alien is eighty minutes of extraordinary wit, unparalleled wisdom and genius observational comedy. Many of the standout lines are familiar to Crisp fans, whether lifted verbatim from his writing and interviews, or simply an accurate representation by Fountain of our memory of the hero. The monologue however, is more than a piece of nostalgic resurrection. It introduces shades of human emotionality to a character who was resolute in presenting a frosty and severe image. The British gentleman is given an opportunity to reveal his tender and vulnerable sides in Resident Alien, so that we can find an even deeper connection through the ever reliable mechanism of sentimentality.

It is a gorgeous production, designed by Romanie Harper (costumes and set) and Rob Sowinski (lights) who provide us with all the visual cues necessary to imagine the decrepit bedroom in which Crisp dwelled, while creating a sense of decadent drama that befits our protagonist, and bringing to sharp focus the physical subject of this monologue presentation. Paul Capsis is the star, captivating, glamorous and alluring with a kind of magnetism that we all desire but rarely encounter. There are efforts at mimicry, but we quickly give up on analysing the impersonation, and delve instead into the glorious essence that Capsis presents on stage, operatic in scale with his bodily and facial gestures, along with a bewitching voice that turns every syllable into song.

We see both Capsis and Crisp, or perhaps more than that, we see ourselves in Resident Alien. It is the meanings that become important. Director Gary Abrahams understands that personality and style are the weapons of seduction, but they play second fiddle to the words that attack with fierce resonance to shake us out of our drear realities. We came to be close to a legend, but are gifted instead a profound and subversive confrontation of our selves, as was Crisp’s very principle for his own existence. His facade was extravagant but flimsy, perhaps intentionally so, so that we can access the truths behind, that his mighty erudition was so generous to offer. Abrahams does the same. His cosmetics are delightful but transparent, allowing us to leave not only with insight into a celebrity’s biography, but the greatest lessons Crisp had learned through 91 years on this earth. His was a theatrical life that always had room for an audience, and the performance was about the alleviation of suffering and a disruption to prejudice. It is the most noble kind of theatre we can hope for, and in Resident Alien, his work lives on.

www.seymourcentre.com

Review: Singin’ In The Rain (Sydney Lyric Theatre)

singinintherainVenue: Sydney Lyric Theatre (Sydney NSW), Jul 7 – Aug 28, 2016
Music & Lyrics: Nacio Herb Brown, Arthur Reed
Screenplay: Betty Comden, Adolph Green
Director: Jonathan Church
Cast: Grant Almirall, Robyn Arthur, Mike Bishop, Jack Chambers, Rodney Dobson, Erika Heynatz, Gretel Scarlett
Image by Hagen Hopkins

Theatre review
Regarded by those in the know to be the greatest movie musical of all time, Singin’ In The Rain takes place in Hollywood in the late 1920’s, when sound had begun to disrupt the silent film industry. This theatre production, based on the 2012 London revival, is similarly lighthearted, with a simple storyline that provides justification for a lot of song and dance in a style that harks back to the golden age of cinema.

Performers Jack Chambers and Erika Heynatz are called upon to provide the laughs in distinct comic sequences that showcase their talents appropriately, but the production suffers from a lack of exuberance that maintains an unfortunate muted tone over proceedings. Visual and sound design elements seem to be overly subdued, resulting in a show that often feels distant and lifeless. In the role of Don Lockwood is Grant Almirall, no less skilled and technical than Gene Kelly in the original film, but his very nifty footwork does not make up for the shortfall of charisma that we have come to expect of a Broadway style leading man.

Gretel Scarlett’s best efforts as supporting character Kathy Selden bring memorable moments of theatrical brilliance, leaving an excellent impression with polished execution of choreography and sublime vocals. Equally accomplished are the ensemble players, who present magnificent dance sequences that form the strongest feature of the production. Andrew Wright’s contribution as choreographer is outstanding, and almost compensates for the show’s minor but noticeable imperfections. Much excitement surrounds the heavy rain that pours on stage for the eponymous number; unquestionably gimmicky but also spectacular and beautifully realised. We go to musicals of this genre for amusement, and Singin’ In The Rain certainly does offer entertainment and escape, as well as bucket loads of nostalgia for the more romantic among us.

wwww.singin.com.au

Review: Henna Night (Mercury Theatre)

mercuryVenue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Jul 5 – 9, 2016
Playwright: Amy Rosenthal
Director: Glen Hamilton
Cast: Jane Angharad, Romney Stanton

Theatre review
Two women are brought together by their love of one man. They are not particularly inspiring people, but theatre does not have the responsibility to only give us role models. Judith and Ros are in a confrontation, both projecting their resentments onto the other, eventually finding commonality in their romantic dissatisfaction that allows them to discover a bond, unexpected of themselves, but completely predictable for their audience. They languish in all the imperfections of their love lives, but never question the futility of their efforts. Amy Rosenthal’s Henna Night is a story about desperation that shows an unflattering picture of what we look like when feeble and fallible.

It is a mildly comical work, with an emphasis on naturalism that tends to subdue the funnier lines of the script. The clash of rivals is conveyed with insufficient theatricality, but the show has a coherence that communicates logically in the absence of great dramatic tension. Actors Jane Anghard and Romney Stanton are convincing in their portrayals, if a little lacking in dynamism. The production’s shifts in mood and atmosphere could be more amplified for better sensory variation to keep us engaged further with nuances of the piece. Director Glen Hamilton attempts to unearth the truth in these women’s experiences, and is successful in bringing an honesty to the stage, but he requires more spice to accompany this overly polite creation, laden with too much sugar.

It is arguable if nice girls always finish last, but in Henna Night, we yearn for Judith and Ros to throw punches and smash vases. We want to see them lash out, because our own angers and frustrations need a safe space to experience a moment of salvation. Thespians are given the license to behave badly in their worlds of make belief, so that we can benefit from that exorcism of our shared demons. The people in the play have a message for us, but they appear gently and disappear too quietly, leaving little more than a dent in our memory.

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Review: The Viagra Monologues (Off The Avenue Productions)

offtheavenueVenue: Blood Moon Theatre (Potts Point NSW), Jun 16 – Jul 2, 2016
Playwright: Geraldine Brophy
Director: Samuel Allen
Cast: Tom Matthews, John Molyneux, Meynard Penalosa

Theatre review
Three male actors present a series of small episodes offering perspectives on life and humanity, through experiences of male sexuality. Like its very famous feminine predecessor, characters in The Viagra Monologues centre their stories on their genitalia. The pharmaceutical referenced in the title does not make frequent appearances, but its presence is a conspicuous metaphor figuring alongside ideas of masculinity and emasculation, which form the play’s main focus. An erect penis alone does not maketh the man, and we explore what it is that today’s man needs in order to find strength and spirit for his existence. Geraldine Brophy’s script is appropriately diverse in scope, with an admirable objective of portraying vulnerability within its very wide range of personality types. Virtually everything we see in the theatrical landscape involves men, but it is not a regular occurrence to see them only at their most vulnerable, stripped of every macho pretence.

Director Samuel Allen does well to create on the stage, distinct scenes and people who appeal in differing ways. The use of space has a tendency to be too basic and repetitive (and lighting design leaves much to be desired), but Allen’s attention to detail in performances provides an effective realism to all the stories we hear. It is an accomplished cast, balanced and cohesive in their efforts but each with their own idiosyncrasies. Tom Matthews entertains with a flamboyant edge to each of his depictions, John Molyneux is charismatic especially when playing young children, and Meynard Penalosa is captivating in his portrayals of emotional intensity. There are inconsistencies in their ability to delve into the fragility of each sequence, but when successful, the monologues take on a powerful poignancy that speaks deeply about the way we are, and how we treat each other.

These are stories about men, but written by a woman. The best of feminism benefits all, and it is the acknowledgement of the destructive qualities of manhood in these stories that make them meaningful. We observe a series of male characters in varying stages of intimate vulnerability, each exposing themselves in a way that real life (outside of the theatre) disallows. The men are beautiful when they bare all under this spotlight, but these are moments of imagination that, although truthful, are rarely encountered face to face, even with the ones we love. We make our men resilient, powerful and hard, as a matter of course, without stopping to think about the sacrifices involved. They soldier on, with all their softer sides buried and suppressed, but dark monsters manifest when we fail to take care.

www.offtheavenue.com.au

Review: Godface (Matriark Theatre)

matriarkVenue: 107 Projects (Redfern NSW), Jun 28 – Jul 10, 2016
Playwright: Robert den Engelsman, Murray Lambert
Director: Scott Parker
Cast: Murray Lambert, Emily McGowan, David Molloy, Jesse Northam, Sam Flack
Image by Alinta Haydock-Burton

Theatre review
In Godface we find a familiar reflection of our scepticism and distrust of government and the adversarial political system. There is an accuracy to the way Robert den Engelsman and Murray Lambert’s writing represents our feelings about politicians and their operations, but its insights and perspectives on the subject are hardly unusual. It shares our disillusionment with all things political, featuring characters that need little introduction, for a simple tale of corruption and exploitation.

Scott Parker’s enthusiastic direction brings to the stage a liveliness that many will enjoy, using puppetry and techniques of commedia dell’arte to spark our imagination as it forms a commentary on the state of the world. Delightfully performed by a unified cast of actors, the production is memorable for its sense of variety, established by a keen interest in a non-naturalistic mode of expression. Sam Flack leaves a remarkable impression in a range of characters including the head of the New God Party, a wolf gangster and a pair of opinionated giraffes. The actor is vibrant and humorous, with excellent charisma that gives each of his transfigurations considerable appeal. Designer Aleisa Jelbart’s work on puppets, props and set is especially noteworthy, with an exceptional eye for detail and refinement that provides touches of stylistic elevation to the production.

At the 2013 elections, 739,872 informal votes were recorded. There is little hope to be found in Godface, for good reason, and we see clear as day, the alienation felt by many of our population. Modern democracy is deeply flawed, but remains the only system we deem acceptable. It is a conundrum that we learn to live with, and on occasions such as this weekend’s federal elections, we have no alternative but to indulge in a moment of delusion that the world might just be ready to make a change for the better.

www.matriarktheatre.com

Review: No Exit (Throwing Shade Theatre Company)

throwingshadeVenue: The Factory Theatre (Marrickville NSW), Jun 23 – 25, 2016
Playwright: Jean-Paul Sartre
Director: Andrew Langcake
Cast: Harley Connor, Courtney Powell, Darcie Irwin-Simpson

Theatre review
Sartre’s 1944 play No Exit is about three people coming to grips with their new existence post-mortality. The famous line “hell is other people” is heard late in the piece, and like the myriad ways in which it can be interpreted, the play is abstract, to be given meaning as one wishes. The concept of hell is a powerful one, considering its uncompromising permanence. Life may not be much more pleasant than hell for some, but hell’s eternal inescapability is truly terrifying.

The staging, directed by Andrew Langcake, is a simple rendering that attempts to bring realism to the absurdist piece, with an emphasis on finding character coherence over philosophical expression. Sound and lighting are strangely neglected, resulting in a supernatural realm that is unfortunately devoid of atmosphere. Performances are committed, and each personality is distinctly shaped by a cast of spirited actors, but chemistry is often lacking. Relationships are key in No Exit, and unable to portray them with enough clarity and dynamism, the production struggles to communicate beyond the superficial.

Individuals experience life from perspectives we know to be personal, but it is debatable if anything is ever unique in how we each see the world. We can only understand things from our singular positions, but in every transaction that we inevitably conduct with other beings, we become transformed, objectified and absorbed into another consciousness. The self is unable to remain separate, and meaning can only come from that act of concurrence, voluntary or involuntary. If other people will give you hell, they are also your only source of pleasure. How much the self can do to manipulate the other will always be limited, but happiness is always best managed within one’s own hermitage.

www.throwingshade.com.au

Review: Back At The Dojo (Belvoir St Theatre)

belvoirVenue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Jun 18 – Jul 17, 2016
Playwright: Lally Katz
Director: Chris Kohn
Cast: Fayssal Bazzi, Dara Clear, Catherine Davies, Harry Greenwood, Brian Lipson, Natsuko Mineghishi, Luke Mullins, Shari Sebbens
Image by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
Lois lays in a hospital bed, with her husband Dan by her side waiting for her to gain consciousness. Their granddaughter Patti appears unannounced and drugged out, after disappearing for two years working on her gender transition. Dan and Patti take time to mend their bond, and in the process we witness parallels between Dan’s life in the late sixties, becoming his own man through the discovery of karate, and Patti’s own frustrations in her journey into womanhood. Back At The Dojo by Lally Katz is an emotional work, but gently so. It does not create big scenes of heightened family drama, taking its time instead to build on our involvement with its characters and their stories. Through excellent humour and a moving depiction of relationships, we gradually become invested in the people before us, although its slow burn may prove to be too demanding of some audiences. Katz’s writing is amusing and colourful, with an undeniable poetic beauty, but the play takes a long time to get to its point, resulting in a plot that can feel somewhat aimless before we arrive at its later, more poignant sequences.

The decision to cast a male actor in the role of Patti is a distasteful one that reflects a surprising callousness, given the impressive level of sensitivity evident throughout the rest of the production. Patti’s is one woman’s story, but due to the rarity of transgender representation in our theatres, it is also every trans person’s story, and no trans woman would ever want to see herself portrayed by a man, on any stage or screen. We do not see Patti’s early days in masculine expressions of gender, so to choose a male actor over a female one (trans or cis), only goes to demonstrate the production’s inability and refusal to accept Patti’s gender as she now presents. To be misgendered is one of the most appalling things any trans person could experience, and Back At The Dojo‘s misgendering, deliberate or unintentional, is an unacceptable transgression.

It must be said however, that Luke Mullins’ performance as Patti is a captivating one, and very powerful. He is obviously unable to convincingly depict the physical transformations that his character has had to endure, but there is a beautiful psychological accuracy in his work, in addition to the passionate yet nuanced drama that he sustains in every stage moment. Director Chris Kohn extracts very believable performances from all his actors. It is essentially a simple tale, with few opportunities for a more ostentatious approach, but every personality and relationship feels meticulously refined, with a palpable omnipresence of truthfulness and vulnerability that gives the show an enchanting soulful quality. The role of Dan is played by Brian Lipson, a gentle giant, full of strength and tenderness in his mesmerising interpretation of an older man dealing with immense loss, that will touch the hardest of hearts. Natsuko Mineghishi steals many scenes as the dojo Sensei, a real-life action hero with thrilling karate showmanship, lethal comic timing and a spectacular singing voice.

A profound connection exists between generations, but modern life seems to prevent many of us from experiencing and reaping its rewards. The disintegration of the family unit, and the ever rising regard for individuality means that few of us maintain significant intergenerational relationships. In Back At The Dojo, a distraught woman finds purpose and meaning by learning about her grandfather’s own obstacles in life, and by recognising her kinship responsibilities. We come to a realisation that both Patti and Dan are sinking under the weight of loneliness, and that the frailty of their existences are to be salvaged by the perennial tie that binds. They are fortunate to have one another, like we all have our own families, but how we value them is what the play brings into question.

www.belvoir.com.au

Review: Bicycle (Lies, Lies And Propaganda)

liesliespropagandaVenue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Jun 21 – Jul 2, 2016
Playwright: Danielle Baynes
Director: Michael Dean
Cast: Danielle Baynes, Pip Dracakis

Theatre review
It is one woman against the world in Danielle Baynes’ Bicycle. The odds are stacked against our 19th century protagonist as she discovers not only her life’s passion, but also the injustices that women face when trying to carve out a self-determined existence. Coming of age in Baynes’ play means realising the discrimination that is systematically entrenched in a world that had previously seemed innocent. An awakening of desires demands that her eyes are open to truths, and her story of tragic enlightenment is told in a way that disallows us from denying its persisting relevance. The nameless Lady’s feelings and experiences, her perspective of the world, and her hunger for what is right, all find connection with our 21st century sensibilities, and shock us into seeing the intimate parallels between what we had considered to be bygone history and what we continue to retain. It is a passionate piece of writing, insightful and brilliantly elucidating through a narrative that is at once personal and universal. At the core of its many colourful permutations of form, is its unmistakeable feminist advocacy that many will find irresistibly inspiring.

Baynes plays the Lady in the hour-long monologue, with Pip Dracakis providing an added female omnipresence with her person and violin. Space is restrictive, and the production relies squarely on the leading lady’s ability to keep our attention and imagination engaged, which she accomplishes remarkably well. Scenes are thoughtfully demarcated and given distinct flavour by director Michael Dean, but some sequences are more effective than others, resulting in a plot trajectory that can feel uneven in its resonance. Dracakis’ live music gives the show a dynamism that works seamlessly alongside Baynes’ actorly endeavours for a powerful statement about art, and the struggles in its creation.

Sex and art are linked in Bicycle, both are appetites ferocious in nature and indomitable. The Lady’s liberties are completely usurped by a patriarchy that is determined to diminish her wishes and talents. We live in a world where powerful people go to great lengths to maintain the status quo, for their position necessitates the subjugation of many. This seems to be part of human nature, never to change, but processes where disenfranchised groups work to destabilise and subvert oppressive forces are always ongoing. Not all will succeed, but the battle continues for the human spirit is at its most potent when the downtrodden are left with nothing else to lose. Her rights as a sexual being and an artist, are a threat to her father and his conspirators, who do all they can to disempower her, but we are glad to see her fight to the end, whether or not she comes out on top.

www.liesliesandpropaganda.com