Review: Ruby Moon (Samsonite Productions)

samsoniteproductionsVenue: The Factory Theatre (Marrickville NSW), Aug 12 – 23, 2015
Playwright: Matt Cameron
Director: Johann Walraven
Cast: Pash Julian, Samantha Lee
Image by Jacob Strong

Theatre review
Matt Cameron’s Ruby Moon is a dark exploration into the human condition at extraordinarily difficult times. The Moon family experiences a profound loss, and we witness the manifestations that follow, in psychological and behavioural terms. Cameron’s writing is morbidly fascinating and very entertaining, with an unusual approach to the way we express bereavement. The script finds a beautiful balance between humour and anguish that allows for a thoroughly amusing theatrical experience in spite of its undeniable gravity. The strange dialogue and quirky characters are brilliantly constructed for a unique experience that can still engage our emotions.

Direction of the work by Johann Walraven brings an intrigue to the stage that befits the mysterious nature of Cameron’s play, and the unpredictability of the plot is successfully preserved in this incarnation. There are good attempts at offbeat comedy, but the haunting qualities of the text are not sufficiently explored. Design aspects are elegantly executed but they need to be pushed further for a stronger gothic feel to take hold that will help to provide greater drama. Also lacking in drama are its performances, which present insufficiently, the fundamental elements of sorrow and desperation that should feature prominently in the trauma that the Moons go through. However, both players Pash Julian and Samantha Lee show good focus, and demonstrate ability at versatility in the wide range of characters they inhabit.

The dark side of humanity is full of potential for any artist to create work that would communicate with satisfying depth, but we all have a special familiarity with personal pain that disallows any hint of falseness or inaccuracy when theatre decides to confront those inner demons. Ruby Moon is at its best when we catch glimpses of the unbelievable horrors that life is capable of delivering, but its lighter sections are also charming enough to retain our attention at other times, even if we do hanker for the nightmares to continue more powerfully for everyone concerned.

www.samsoniteproductions.com

Review: The Present (Sydney Theatre Company)

Venue: Roslyn Packer Theatre at Walsh Bay (Sydney NSW), Aug 4 – Sep 19, 2015
Playwright: Andrew Upton (after Anton Chekhov’s Platonov)
Director: John Crowley
Cast: Anna Bamford, Cate Blanchett, Andrew Buchanan, David Downer, Eamon Farren, Martin Jacobs, Jacqueline McKenzie, Brandon McClelland, Marshall Napier, Susan Prior, Richard Roxburgh, Chris Ryan, Toby Schmitz
Images by Lisa Tomasetti

Theatre review
What is now known to be Anton Chekhov’s Platonov, was an unpublished manuscript discovered a decade after the playwright’s 1904 death. His sister had called it “a long play without a title”, and it remains an obscure component of the master’s oeuvre. Andrew Upton’s The Present is an adaptation of the aforementioned work by the young Chekhov, and is significantly transformed from its original manifestation. The play is now updated, with events moved to the mid 1990’s, and its structure and language thoroughly altered to address our sensibilities in the early twenty-first century.

The play reads like a tribute to Chekhov, with his distinctively dry sense of humour and his legacy in Russian realism featuring prominently in its style and tone, but The Present is much more powerful and immediately provocative than its predecessor. Act One begins with Anna Petrovna firing a pistol into the audience, an act of aggression that warns us of the exhilarating ride that is to follow. Scenes are short and sharp, with vibrant characters full of intriguing quirk engaging in intense dialogue. Even in its early moments before “shit went down” (Upton’s words), tension is palpable and we always sense that an eruption is imminent. In fact, the play is repeatedly explosive, and at three hours, its ability to keep us on the edge of our seats is a remarkable achievement.

Directing the production is John Crowley, who introduces a wild and ferocious energy to the typically Chekhovian setting of gentries, then enforcing an air of restraint over its characters to create a sense of agonising oppression, that threatens to burst at the seams with every hint of conflict and confrontation. Crowley’s astounding ability to sustain the very satisfying comedy of the production throughout its increasingly disastrous and painful chain of revelations, creates a rare viewing response that is strangely potent. The tragicomedy manages to elicit feelings that alternate between mirthfulness and dread, almost to reflect the complexity of lived experience, and surprises us with the unexpected sensation of having these seemingly incompatible emotions co-exist singularly.

The philosophical aspects of The Present are undeniable, but they are presented with subtlety and benevolence, frequently through metaphor and symbolism not unlike Chekhov’s preferred mode of expression. Often with a playful, but ultimately poignant approach, we are urged to consider its universal themes from a personal perspective. Love and loss, honesty and delusion, hope and despair, all become resonant dichotomies, no matter our distance from the Russian summer of 1993. Design elements of the show are elegant and fairly minimal, but space is dutifully manipulated to frame performance and to aide the projection of its actors’ work, so that our attention falls squarely on their unbelievably nuanced portrayals. There are no distractions from what the play wishes to convey, but its central construct of materialism versus truth, might be a bitter pill for some regardless of the clarity at which the message is laid on stage.

Cate Blanchett attacks her role, and the tenets of the text, with a forceful conviction that can only emerge from the extremely talented. The star’s undisguisable passion for her craft is a coherent match for the determination and fortitude of Anna, a woman coming very close to the end of her tether. Her portrayal of drunken and unhinged abandonment in Act Two is sheer theatrical delight, and a beautiful blend of studied precision with courageous impulse. Blanchett’s incredible allure keeps us spellbound, and she uses it to deliver the many thoughtful intentions of the play, which we absorb with enthusiastic acquiescence. Mikhail, the self-loathing cad brimming with regret, is played by the equally stellar Richard Roxburgh, with magnificent comedic aplomb. His flawless timing and uncanny capacity to intuit his audience’s temperament at all times, ensures that we are fascinated, entertained, shocked and moved, at his will. Roxburgh amuses us with outrageous frivolity, while lucidly communicating his character’s experiences and troubles at impressive depth. We identify intimately with Mikhail’s destruction, and the actor’s work leaves us wanting for nothing.

Questioning life, is not a daily preoccupation for many, but it is the business of artists to investigate and challenge the way we view our world, and then present to us, all that they discover. Andrew Upton’s The Present is concerned with contemporary life, and the choices we make as individuals. It is interested in the definitions of fulfilment, success and happiness, and Upton gifts us with the urgent encouragement for the pursuit of enlightenment while time rushes past. Life is meaningless without death, and while the end is always nigh, it is the now that must be cherished, and it is in the now that we must find redemption.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Review: Seventeen (Belvoir St Theatre)

Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Aug 1 – Sep 13, 2015
Playwright: Matthew Whittet
Director: Anne-Louise Sarks
Cast: Peter Carroll, Maggie Dence, John Gaden, Genevieve Lemon, Barry Otto, Anna Volska
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
It is the last day of school, and five seventeen year-olds are celebrating the milestone with great happiness and too much booze. Performed by actors in their seventies, the play promises to offer refreshing perspectives of a rite of passage that most of us are familiar with. Matthew Whittet’s script for Seventeen explores teenage life at its later stages, when adolescents begin to think about the future, and the choices they inevitably have to make. The writing’s approach is a gentle one that shows a mainstream idea of youth that does not use its characters to shock or sensationalize. The group seems thoroughly regular, and it is worthwhile giving them a voice, without requiring them to be controversial or achieving anything particularly extraordinary or dramatic. Their concerns and interests are revealed with honesty, and the play derives its dynamism from the colourful optimism of its teenage personalities, but challenges exist in dealing with what is essentially quite pedestrian experiences. The text has enough vibrancy and surprises peppered through its plot, but if it is to be performed by age appropriate actors, one can imagine the work to lack a sense of theatricality, and come across too ordinary. If casting much older players is the only way the play gains its edge, it can be interpreted that the manoeuvre is somewhat gimmicky, but the production does manage to use the age discrepancy in fascinating ways at many points.

The comedic components of the show are effective and very memorable. Watching these seniors mimic the physical and verbal expressions of persons much younger is a joy, and we never tire of the immediate and awkward juxtaposition of behaviour against body, young against old. Director Anne-Louise Sarks introduces that humorous sense of contemporariness into much of the piece, and the cast executes them with triumphant results, no matter how juvenile or, at times, embarrassing. Less successful however, are the many scenes of quite serious conversations in the latter half, where its characters indulge in romantic squabbles, and the performances loses its ironic charm. The tone of the show turns earnest, and as it moves away from comedy, it simultaneously loses energy and tension, and the strong focus placed on puppy love shifts the production from a thoroughly amusing one, to something altogether less involving.

At the centre of Seventeen is a meditation on how we conceive of the future, at different stages of life. A particularly moving scene involves Tom declaring his feelings about leaving his town and his friends, at the conclusion of his high school education. Actor Peter Carroll performs the scene with outstanding sensitivity and intuition, communicating the duality of his character’s sadness, and the undeniable poignancy of an older man saying goodbye to the mortal world. Carroll’s power on stage comes not only from his ability to tug at our heartstrings but also from his amazing agility that defies our beliefs about ageing. Equally magnetic is Barry Otto as the kooky and childlike Ronny, a character on the periphery, unpopular but undefeated, always exuberant and full of kindness. The role needs better integration into the play’s main narratives, but his presence is a touch of innocent tenderness that provides a balance to the boisterous and libidinous goings on that gives cohesion to the stories. Genevieve Lemon plays the very cheeky and adorable fifteen year-old Lizzy with expert comic timing and a very pronounced stage presence. We welcome each of her entrances and anticipate every one of her hilarious punchlines.

Time may not always be linear, but in Seventeen, we are reminded that turning back the clock is impossible, and that the desire to do so, is misguided. The elderly are able to contribute so much to society that cannot be matched by the young. Of course, the reverse is also true, but wisdom that comes from age and experience cannot be replaced or surpassed. What we witness in the show are stories about the very immature of our communities, presented by a group with centuries worth of combined insight and intelligence. They do not say very much more than what is asked of them, but we are glad to have them in our midst, putting on display their talent and skill, all for our benefit.

www.belvoir.com.au

Review: Great Island (Beside Ourselves Productions)

besideourselves1Venue: 107 Projects (Redfern NSW), Jul 29 – Aug 9, 2015
Playwright: Pierce Wilcox (after Pierre de Marivaux’s L’Île des esclaves)
Director: Pierce Wilcox
Cast:  Anna Chase, Rob Johnson, Harrison Milas, Eleni Schumacher, Nicholas Starte
Image by Isabella Andronos

Theatre review
Absurdity is often used on stage to communicate ideas of a political nature. The exaggeration of circumstances helps us understand forces at work in society that might be too guileful for our anesthetized senses. Pierce Wilcox’s Great Island discusses capitalism through a series of very broad comedy sequences that sees very energetic and inventive performances, and although mirthful in general, its obscure humour delivers few laughs, and only ambiguous meaning can be derived from its wild constructs. Nevertheless, the work remains a fascinating one with a mischievous edge that keeps viewers engaged.

Although not uniformly strong, the cast of five is a spirited one that has a surprisingly cohesive approach to the material at hand. Nicholas Starte plays the King with a disciplined command of physicality and voice, and an easy confidence that endears him to the crowd. The actor has a natural eccentricity that suits the style of the production, and a cheeky effervescence that many will find impressive. Also accomplished is Rob Johnson who brings a necessary polish to the chaotic stage, and a conviction that gives a dimension of gravity to the show’s themes. It is not an easy task elevating a piece that has a tendency to come across frivolous, but the team’s commitment is evident.

Discussions about alternatives to capitalism are always interesting. None of us can escape the economy’s influence, and we should all participate in finding solutions to flaws that inevitably arise in any socio-political environment. There has never been a perfect system that satisfies every community it manages, and all we can do is to find refinement and improvement at every available opportunity. There is good promise at Great Island, but it reveals that we are still at primitive stages in the evolutionary process.

www.facebook.com/besideourselvescollective

Review: Space Cats (Brevity Theatre)

brevityVenue: Bondi Pavilion (Bondi NSW), Feb 25 – Mar 7, 2015
Book: Samantha Young
Lyrics: Samantha Young
Music: Matthew Predny, Emele Ugavule
Director: Samantha Young
Cast: Olivia Charalambous, Skyler Ellis​, Gautier Pavlovic-Hobba, Aaron Tsindos, Samantha Young

Theatre review
Laika the dog, left Russia in a spacecraft and finds himself on a planet where the Queen Cat reigns supreme. She is on a mission to rid her world of everything undesirable, and has slaughtered everyone, except for her minions, Bruno and Mars, and one final offender, Bin Cat, who sits in prison waiting to be executed. Clearly the Queen has no tolerance for any sort of behaviour that may contradict her own, and it is the themes of compassion and understanding that provide this mini-musical its impetus, along with temperate but well-meaning ideas about governance and social diversity.

Samantha Young’s work as writer and director is subversive, but her tone is relentlessly light and joyous. The show is a euphoric application of the musical genre, using its shallow and frivolous propensities to excellent comic effect. Original songs with lyrics by Young and music by Matthew Predny and Emele Ugavule are inventive, always with a cheeky attitude, but they are not uniformly strong. It is understood that this one night presentation is a preview of sorts, with a more refined “end product” to eventuate in the near future. There certainly is a great deal of potential and promise in this outrageously quirky germination of a production that seems to have many effective elements in place, awaiting further development and polish.

The cast of five is a compelling ensemble, with excellent chemistry and a cohesive humour that projects a confidence generously outweighing the prematurity of their material. Aaron Tsindos’s camp sensibility is a highlight at many points, delivering waves of laughter with a Kenneth “Carry On” Williams style of flamboyance in his role of Bruno. Playing Laika is Skyler Ellis who tunes his portrayal of earnestness from sincere to corny with intuitive accuracy, and whose singing voice impresses quite effortlessly. All performances are delightful, with a clever blend of energy and irony for a tongue-in-cheek, and sometimes raunchy, approach that many would find irresistibly amusing. Space Cats is about love, with passion emanating from every one of its facets, and although the production is missing finesse at many points on this particular occasion, we leave the auditorium convinced that love can actually conquer all.

www.brevitytheatre.com.au

Review: Listen! I’m Telling You Stories‏ (PACT Centre For Emerging Artists)

pact4Venue: PACT Theatre (Erskineville NSW), July 20 – 25, 2015
Director: Katrina Douglas
Cast: Courtney Ammenhauser, Alicia Dulnuan Demou, Amber Jacobs, Carissa Licciardello, Jessica McKerlie, Tasha O’Brien, Mitchell Whitehead, Steve Wilson Alexander, Dubs Yunupingu
Image by Katy Green Loughrey

Theatre review
Presented by a group of young artists studying the theatrical arts through the exploration of spacial awareness, physical training and team rapport, Listen! I’m Telling You Stories‏ is an earnest demonstration of their journey as apprentices of performance. Each creates a short vignette offering varying degrees of insight into their life and mind, but it is not the content of what they have to say that is actually fascinating. The show is a cohesive and sensitive amalgamation of nine lives brought together temporally, and we witness their creative energies in motion, all focused on generating something purposeful, at least from their own perspective. What results is a succinct work, under an hour, that is more about practice than communication. Their approach is a sincere one, and although engaging for its duration, no great resonance is sustained beyond the curtain call.

There is a beautiful uniformity in the ensemble’s voice and attitude for the piece. Our attention goes to a singular entity of the whole, even though disparate elements are always present in the work’s intelligent plurality. Direction by Katrina Douglas brings out the strengths of her performers and successfully balances the individual with the group, so that the piece always feels even. The work of designers, Amber Silk (lighting) and Peter Kennard (sound) are prominent features that give the production polish and depth, in the absence of a compelling script. Our eyes and ears are ingeniously and constantly surprised in the show, and the sense of wonder provided by the team is a notable achievement, but there is nothing that seems to be able to connect on a more meaningful, or perhaps emotional, level.

On many levels, Listen! I’m Telling You Stories‏ appears to be experimental, with inventive modes of expression a distinguishing feature. At the same time, there is a safeness to the production’s artistic choices that keeps it from being more exuberant or idiosyncratically memorable. Artists in training need to understand rules and gain skills that will help them attain their visions for the stage, but often it is in the calculated abandonment of those standards that something spectacular can materialise.

www.pact.net.au

Review: Detroit (Darlinghurst Theatre Company)

darlo2Venue: Eternity Playhouse (Darlinghurst NSW), Jul 17 – Aug 16, 2015
Playwright: Lisa D’Amour
Director: Ross McGregor
Cast: Lisa Chappell, Ronald Falk, Claire Lovering, James O’Connell, Ed Wightman
Image by Gez Xavier Mansfield

Theatre review
When people hit “rock bottom”, they are forced to evaluate values, and in the case of Lisa D’Amour’s Detroit, an opportunity to build a new life presents itself at the most troubling of times. Sharon and Kenny are ex-junkies trying to get their act together, but no easy solution exists, and all we see is their struggle to make every day count. The story is one of resilience, about the human ability to make the best out of nothing, and ironically, also about our tendencies at making the worst out of what we do have. The script is a surprising and quirky one, with an unusual sense of humour that begins unassumingly but gains momentum with every scene, leading to an explosive conclusion that ties up the many loose ends that it scatters along the way.

The production begins almost too enthusiastically, with actors keen to entertain while establishing a context that should probably look and feel more pedestrian at that early stage. Performances by the very striking women of the cast are consistently animated, which works well when subtexts are being communicated, but at other times can come across overly farcical. Dark social comedies require a delicate balance, but early comic moments tend to obscure the atmosphere of depression that the play wishes to convey. As the plot progresses into a wild and surreal space, the extravagant performances become congruous, and very engaging indeed. Ed Wightman’s tender portrayal of Ben provides the authentic centre of the production. His plight is readily identifiable, and the actor wins our empathy with a subtle vulnerability that he makes perceivable in between charming interpretations of comic sequences. Addict in recovery, Sharon is played by the exuberant Claire Lovering who is delightfully funny in every scene, but the ambiguity of her character prevents us from achieving an understanding of her circumstances with sufficient depth.

The show is amusing, and unpredictable, with scenes flowing into each other with little indication of what is about to occur next. There is a polish to the production that makes viewing pleasurable, but for all its dramatic events, it does not seem to be able to provoke much thought about its grave themes of poverty and social decay. Detroit, the city, has been going through ruinous transformations, of which great lessons are certainly attainable, and staging a work with the same name only raises expectations for considerable profundity. There is much to be explored in this play named Detroit, but on this occasion, some of it remains uncovered.

www.darlinghursttheatre.com

Review: The Cherry Orchard (The Depot Theatre)

depotVenue: The Depot Theatre (Marrickville NSW), Jul 15 – Aug 1, 2015
Playwright: Anton Chekhov
Director: Julie Baz
Cast: Jane Angharad, Anne Brito, Myles Burgin, Leo Domigan, David Jeffrey, Justine Kacir, Theo Kokkinidis, Dave Kirkham, Emily McGowan, Roger Smith, James Smithers, Cherrie Whalen-David
Image by Katy Green Loughrey

Theatre review
Interest in Anton Chekhov’s plays have not waned over the last century. In Australia, not a year goes by without several productions materialising from his famous scripts, and at every outing, we seem unable to keep from arguing endlessly about them. Chekhov is classic, but he is also divisive. Theatre lovers tend to have strong personal conceptions about the meanings derived from his oeuvre, and when it comes to how his writing should be presented, opinions can get quite strong. Art is many things, and when we try to put restrictions on what it encompasses, we need to be vigilant about what is excluded. So perhaps, art is everything. Replication and imitation are thought of as transgressive in the creation of art, yet originality is hardly ever seen. In the theatre especially, we are constantly making references and quotations, almost to the point where we have given up on the importance of making something new.

Julie Baz’s rendering of The Cherry Orchard is interested in the ideas of the script. It is clear that although those ideas have already been shared many times, this production considers them to still be relevant and significant. There is a considerable chasm however, between Moscow in 1904 and Sydney today, and finding parallels between contexts is a challenge, and slightly tenuous, when the show is presented with a sense of reverence, which seems to aim for an experience that is about recreating and re-enacting, rather than reinventing. The result often looks like an historical artefact, with meanings that are not immediately resonant.

Live performances are most successful when there is an energetic exchange between the action on stage and the illusory passivity of its audience. A show takes into account how it is being perceived, and leaving that to chance is an unwise gamble. Much of this production seems to take place in a bubble. The cast is not uniformly strong, and we often feel kept at arm’s length, either by a lack of confidence or a mistaken notion that performance is a one-way street. Moments of frisson occur when the actors allow themselves a more spontaneous and creative space of expression. David Jeffrey as Lopakhin rejects preconceived notions of “what Chekhov must have been” and plays his role from a more honest point of departure. With the simple intention of portraying a colourful character, and an astute awareness about his part’s contribution to the narrative’s effectiveness, Jeffrey is able to form a strong presence on stage and fosters a connection with the viewer. Also fascinating is Roger Smith, who plays the 87 year-old Firs with charming idiosyncrasy and warmth. His looks to be a vaudeville inspired style of presentation, but it works well for a role that situates slightly outside of the main storyline, and the actor takes every one of his opportunities to entertain.

There is value in creating faithful interpretations of classics, but trying to get things right from a vast distance of time and space is hard, and then making it meaningful to an audience for which it was not intended, is also problematic. The Cherry Orchard is about the changing of times, but the production seems trapped in a past that we have only read about or imagined. It manages to locate moments of truth when Chekhov’s writing turns to diatribe, but it is not consistently genuine. The Buddhists and the New Ageists often prescribe placing focus on the here and now, and that belief is perfectly suited to the theatre. Magic does happen on stage, but we have to be there to set it off.

www.thedepottheatre.com

Review: Edmond (Two Peas)

twopeas1Venue: Old 505 Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Jul 15 – 26, 2015
Playwright: David Mamet
Director: Glen Hamilton
Cast: Tara Clark, Cheyne Fynn, Naomi Livingstone, Oleg Pupovac

Theatre review
David Mamet’s Edmond is a despicable human being. All the worst qualities a person can have are found in one awful character, who happens to hate everything and everyone, including or maybe, especially, himself. It is a simple premise for a play but a confronting one. Mamet’s conceit is extreme, almost cartoonish in its approach, which is necessary for preventing the play from ever becoming realistic and hence, plainly unbelievable. There is a tendency for the work to portray Edmond as being an everyday person, and for us to be able to identify with characteristics that he displays, but it is arguable whether the context is too alienating for audiences to be able to connect in a meaningful way.

Direction of the production is slightly surreal, and also slightly quirky. It understands the fantastical quality of the text, but does not explore its concepts with enough theatricality to prevent the play from being weighed down by a conventional realism that struggles to provide drama and excitement that could elevate a script that is persistently bleak. The repetitiveness of the plot induces a numbness in our response, which the direction allows to take effect instead of finding ways to shock us with every subsequent scene as the writing intends. In the title role is Oleg Pupovac who shows good conviction and focus, but the decision to play Edmond as an essentially unassuming guy is questionable. One is reminded of Mary Harron’s 2000 film American Psycho, and the effectiveness of its flamboyant style in establishing a quality of enthrallment within the outlandish and disturbing environment being portrayed. Although uncomfortably mild, Pupovac’s interpretation does create an interesting juxtaposition between normalcy and atrocity that is quite remarkable. The rest of the cast is required to play a large assortment of undesirables, which paves the way for a very playful stage, and correspondingly, it is when performances are daring and wild that we become engaged. Naomi Livingstone’s versatility and vibrancy help her breathe life into her characters, and her animated expressiveness strikes a resonant balance with Mamet’s writing to deliver several memorable moments.

Edmond builds to a conclusion that attempts to make sense of its own overwhelming violence and insanity, but the production seems to deflate before that crucial point, and what should have been a significant revelation is lost in an air of ambiguity. Without a pointedly communicated moral, we are left to consult our own values to achieve an understanding of the preposterous situations that had been witnessed, which means that new perspectives are probably not gained by many. Audiences are willing to participate in stories that involve challenging content and ideas, but we expect a greater than usual pay off in their aftermath. There are lots of horrible people in Edmond, and it is undeniable that the same horrible behaviour exists in real life, but encountering them voluntarily at the theatre needs to be more purposeful than catching a glimpse of silver lining.

www.thetwopeas.com

Review: Love And Information (Sydney Theatre Company / Malthouse Theatre)

Venue: Wharf 1 Sydney Theatre Company (Walsh Bay NSW), Jul 9 – Aug 15, 2015
Playwright: Caryl Churchill
Director: Kip Williams
Cast: Marco Chiappi, Glenn Hazeldine, Anita Hegh, Zahra Newman, Anthony Taufa, Ursula Yovich, Alison Whyte, Harry Greenwood
Images by Pia Johnson

Theatre review
Caryl Churchill’s Love And Information is a 90 minute play, composed entirely of very short sequences that look to be extracts from a wide range of stories running the gamut of genres in conventional theatre. Each independent bite-sized piece, not matter how small, provides enough for us to make sense of events taking place in the moment, but the scenes do no immediately relate to one another. Except, it is human nature to make meaning regardless of what is being scrutinised, and we form voluntary interpretations about the things we see. In the case of Churchill’s very fascinating work, we are seduced into intellectual overdrive, almost like reading a mystery, piecing together clues that may or may not be, to find a consolidation of significance. A great work of art is one that helps its viewer see a true picture of themselves, and their place within a social universe. The moral of Churchill’s stories is a fluid one, and we take from them what is intimate to us as individuals, and as such, it can be seen that the writer has used abstraction to successfully facilitate a kind of self-awareness in the viewer’s sense of being and identity.

The work makes a statement about contemporary times, and our environment of obsessive information technology. If modernity is sick, attention deficit disorder would be one of its chief ailments. We are incessantly seeking out information from all sources, like an addict with no ability of discernment. We find out small bits about everything, with no regard for relevance, and certainly no capacity for any depth. As our social and physical spaces become increasingly congested, our attention is compelled to be dispersed into a multitude of directions, all of the time, and this might be a case of “resistance is futile”, as we cannot be sure if we have any choice in the matter, or if indeed, we are able to withdraw into any alternatives. The play talks about choices, especially the lack thereof, and toys with the concept of hiding as a solution, but it is clear that we are what we are.

Director Kip Williams gives us all that we wish from a stage production, in spite of a missing story. The production is emotionally appealing, as it carefully emulates the sentimental journey of a narrative-driven plot, with all its intrigue, comedy, surprises and poignancies. Williams makes us respond accordingly even though there are no characters to follow. The thoroughly experimental nature of the work is no impediment at all to a satisfying experience for any audience with even just a minutiae of sophistication. Additionally, the work’s cerebral aspects might be unusually dynamic, but they are accessible to most. The production is an engaging one that inspires questions at every step of the way, and we read it at any level of competency that suits us personally.

Lighting designer Paul Jackson gives each distinct chapter and verse, a personality and beauty that captivate us, while assisting our subconscious to understand all that is being conveyed. Our visual attention is masterfully controlled so that we are kept firmly within the unusual plot trajectories that unfurl. Music and sound by The Sweats are a key feature that binds each aspect of the production to present a surprisingly coherent whole. The soundscape dictates the pace of the piece from beginning to end, and tells us quite directly how to respond at all times in our participation just outside the stage’s fourth wall. The technical proficiencies of Love And Information is extraordinary. There is nothing else that calls for as many scene and character changes, with what must be over one or two hundred entrances and exits, all flawlessly executed with an unbelievable fluency and grace. Stage Manager Lisa Osborn’s abilities are truly remarkable.

Also proficient is the diverse cast of eight, every one unique in appearance and style, yet tightly unified in the vision they aim to concoct and the energy they bring to the stage. The accuracy required of them both in terms of the technical and the artistic are simply unbelievable and they deliver with astounding dexterity. Predictably, the funnier actors leave a greater impression, and while Glenn Hazeldine’s comedy is only allowed flashes of brilliance in a play with lightning speed transitions, the actor never misses with any of his punchlines no matter how subtle. Anita Hegh too, is memorable for creating laughter at will, and her effortless charm is one that grabs hold of our attention and convinces us of everything being communicated. The play has philosophy seeping through every pore, and Ursula Yovich gives them a sublime gravity, whether the topic be death or infidelity.

A distillation of the theatregoing experience would probably reveal two fundamental elements; entertainment and meaning. When art is challenging, it helps us discover new things and prevents our existences from turning empty, but entertainment is always the easier ticket to purchase. While not mutually exclusive, they rarely meet as equals. In Love And Information, the two come as an explosive package. Philosophically and intellectually enthralling, it is similarly exciting and joyful from a perspective of pure amusement. There are better sources of fun and frivolity of course, but here is a rare and monumental leap in the evolution of the theatrical arts. If this is experimental, the real event that it paves way for, will be nothing less than revolutionary.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au | www.malthousetheatre.com.au