Tag Archives: drama

Review: The Hello Girls (Hayes Theatre)

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Venue: Hayes Theatre Co (Potts Point NSW), Jan 10 – Feb 4, 2024
Music and Lyrics: Peter Mills
Book: Peter Mills, Cara Reichel
Director: Jason Langley
Cast: Rhianna McCourt, Kira Leiva, Kaori Maeda-Judge, Nikola Gucciardo, Kaitlin Nihill, Joel Hutchings, Matthew Hearne, David Hooley, Lincoln Elliot, Zachary Selmes, Jessy Heath, Alexis van Maanen, James Frampton
Images by Philip Erbacher

Theatre review
It was 1917 when Grace Banker was enlisted to lead a USA corps of thirty-three women switchboard operators in World War I. Although formally termed the Signal Corps Female Telephone Operators Unit, they became popularly known as the Hello Girls, a moniker after which Peter Mills and Cara Reichel named their entertaining and informative 2018 musical. It is a comparatively small yet ultimately consequential wartime story that the pair has identified and deftly written about, accompanied by a notable collection of catchy tunes to keep us firmly engaged.

Exquisitely sung by a cast of ten, with Rhianna McCourt as their effervescent leading lady, the quality of vocal performances in The Hello Girls leaves a remarkable impression. Also exceptional, is the spirited band under Natalya Aynsley’s meticulous musical direction, delivering songs that are as tightly propulsive as they are imaginatively transportative. Sound design by Kyle Sheedy too is effective, especially when called upon to help illustrate the more chilling aspects of the women’s experiences.

Directed by Jason Langley, along with choreography by Amy Orman, the narrative is conveyed with a theatrical exuberance and an appropriate sense of urgency. Not all of the story is applicable to how we think of the wars that are currently being fought in foreign lands, but portions of the show certainly resonate in meaningful and contemporaneously relevant ways.

The staging suffers however, from an overall lack of visual flamboyance. Set design offers a functional space, but one that appears increasingly rigid over the two-and-a-half-hour duration. Lights are fairly rudimentary, although dynamic within its limited technical capacities. Sarah Hordern’s costumes are perhaps too accurate in emulating apparel from the era, with representations of characters that look excessively pragmatic and frugal.

We discover in The Hello Girls, that it had taken 60 years after the war before the American Congress approved Veteran Status/Honorable discharges for the remaining military women. This prolonged denial that women were a crucial part of the war effort, exposes the ease with which our venerated systems are able to accommodate injustices of all kinds. The Hello Girls also shows that there is nothing broken about those systems, that it is precisely the way they were always meant to operate, that we need to interrogate and transform.

www.hayestheatre.com.au | www.facebook.com/heartstringstheatreco

Review: A Midsummer Night’s Cream (Old Fitz Theatre)

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Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Dec 1 – 10, 2023
Creators: Charlotte Farrell, Emma Maye Gibson

Theatre review
Feminists are not usually fans of Shakespeare’s oeuvre; his representations of women are often nauseating, if not completely despicable. Charlotte Farrell and Emma Maye Gibson seem to have a love-hate relationship with The Bard. A Midsummer Night’s Cream is a devised work that is both inspired by, and critical of Shakespeare. Early portions of the show are heavily centred around deconstructions of Shakespeare’s writing, reflecting perhaps a frustration derived from making theatre in a milieu that regards him to be foundational and epochal, even centuries later.

The show then swirls gradually away from that point of departure, and ventures somewhere more intimate, with Farrell and Gibson discussing motherhood. An intensification of atmosphere, luminated with a palpable sensuality by Cheryn Frost, almost indicates the true purpose of the exercise, as the two women engage in exchanges that explore those meanings that pertain to the young cisgender female body. Like Shakespeare being so intrinsically linked to how we conceive of the theatrical arts, pregnancy is to many women, inextricable and integral to their understanding of existence.

None of this is ever made explicit however, in a presentation that is as whimsical as it is poetic. Political but never pugnacious, A Midsummer Night’s Cream asserts itself with only the smallest affront to what it wishes to abolish, choosing instead to establish on stage, a new order that, unlike its predecessor, is characterised by inclusiveness and grace. Empowered to make change, with a humility informed by past deficiencies, Farrell and Gibson are careful not to inflict the same egregiousness it tries to replace.

This is a feminism that does not merely substitute one thing for another, preserving old structures while temporarily and superficially transforming them. What the artists deliver, looks like disruptive chaos, but that probably says more about our attachment to obsolete values, than it does the essential qualities of their work. Real change is uncomfortable, and good art is never afraid to challenge.

www.redlineproductions.com.au

Review: The Seagull (Sydney Theatre Company)

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Venue: Roslyn Packer Theatre (Sydney NSW), Nov 21 – Dec 16, 2023
Playwright: Anton Chekhov (adapted by Andrew Upton)
Director: Imara Savage
Cast: Arka Das, Michael Denkha, Harry Greenwood, Markus Hamilton, Mabel Li, Sean O’Shea, Toby Schmitz, Sigrid Thornton, Megan Wilding, Brigid Zengeni
Images by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
Constantine’s angst remains resolute, even though he no longer lives in 1896 Russia. Andrew Upton’s adaptation of Chekhov’s The Seagull takes place in current day Australia, refreshed with modernised dialogue that effervesces amusingly, but is otherwise entirely faithful to the original. It is arguable whether these characters would think and behave the same, having moved continents and centuries. Even though human nature can be disconcertingly rigid, the dramatic (and iconic) conclusion of Chekhov’s play, feels too characteristic perhaps of an olden Russia. It is however certainly possible that that despondence is in fact no different, wherever and whenever the story takes place. Upton could be making the point, that we are in fact deluded, should we consider ourselves evolved and improved.

Nevertheless, the update feels somewhat tenuous, even though the contemporarised humour of the piece is an unequivocal pleasure. Directed by Imara Savage, the show is at its most appealing when moments are drenched in irony, as we watch persons of a certain privilege, unable to evade nihilistic despair. Reflecting on Chekhov’s times, we can associate The Seagull with impending revolutions, and explain that malaise within a context of disquietude and a thirst for upheaval. Watching the same tale unfold in our here and now, is a confronting proposition. That unflinching pessimism could be saying something appalling about the people we are, or we could simply regard this transposition to be somehow inauthentic.

All the same, drama is delicious. Actor Harry Greenwood as Constantine is less sympathetic than is traditionally portrayed, but renders an unassailable sense of truth and integrity, to persuade us of his narrative. Other notable performers include Mabel Li, equally impressive in comedic and tragic portions of Nina’s exploits, able to make convincing the drastic shift in temperaments, for this classic showcase of lost innocence. Sean O’Shea’s highly idiosyncratic turn as Peter proves thoroughly delightful, very extravagant in style but unquestionably charming with his interpretations of an ageing invertebrate. Playing Boris the cad is Toby Schmitz, wonderfully inventive and unpredictable, in his thrilling explorations of self-absorption and immorality. On stage, Schmitz’s impulsiveness is a real joy.

Set design by David Fleischer conveys a rustic sensibility, but always with a quiet sophistication that reminds us of the social class being depicted. Costumes by Renée Mulder emphasise the modernity of characters, keeping them accurately within the current generation. Lights by Amelia Lever-Davidson, along with sounds and music by Max Lyandvert, are extremely subtle until the final climactic scenes, when we are treated to a greater theatricality, as the show approaches its inevitable melodramatic conclusion.

The world tells Constantine that by virtue of his biological and social distinctions, that he is destined to be a leader and a winner. In the microcosm of his daily existence however, he only feels belittled and disgraced. Males account for three-quarters of suicide in Australia today. We can diverge in our understandings of that statistic, but it is a clearly a question of gender that cannot be ignored. We are all vulnerable beings. It is the quixotic notion that some of us have to be impervious to human fallibilities, that can drive a person to the brink.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Review: Oil (Sydney Theatre Company)

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Venue: Wharf 1 Sydney Theatre Company (Walsh Bay NSW), Nov 4 – Dec 16, 2023
Playwright: Ella Hickson
Director: Paige Rattray
Cast: Saif Alawadi, Violette Ayad, Jing-Xuan Chan, Callan Colley, Charlotte Friels, Josh McConville, Benedict Samuel, Brooke Satchwell, Damien Strouthos, Anne Tenney
Images by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
Ella Hickson’s Oil begins in 1889 with young May falling pregnant with Amy, whilst navigating abject poverty in Cornwall, England. With each subsequent chapter, May and Amy jump decades ahead theatrically, allowing us to see an evolution of English womanhood in parallel with the industrial revolution and, more specifically, the modern history of petroleum. It is a complex, although surprisingly comprehensible, work that deals with environmental degradation, along with providing an evaluation of the trajectory of Western feminism, as well as a meditation on human nature.

Oil talks about our survival, including both our ingenuity and our incapacities, for a narrative on our progress, and perhaps regressions, to offer new reflections on human propensities, benevolent and otherwise, that may inspire improved methods for how we may forge ahead. Paige Rattray’s remarkable direction of the work captivates with endless intrigue, for something that could have easily become overly intellectual. It asks many questions, and leaves them unanswered, yet we feel sated by the end, nourished by passionate and pointed depictions of our shared pasts and likely futures.

Actor Brooke Satchwell brings scintillating intensity and focus to May, the maternal figure who always intends to do her best, but who is never safe from making errors. Satchwell’s confidence helps gain our trust in the unpredictable storytelling, taking us on a confronting ride that proves to be thoroughly thought-provoking. Amy is played by Charlotte Friels, spirited and purposeful with her creative choices, admirable for her ability to cultivate excellent chemistry with all she partners with. The leads are supported by a highly proficient ensemble, with each performer leaving a strong impression, in a detailed and refined presentation of an urgent message.

Set design by Emma White is wonderful in its versatility, cleverly adapting to the requirements of each era, as the play takes inordinately big leaps through the years. The creation of props for the show are especially commendable, completely fascinating in the ways they embellish the space for a series of imagery to manufacture an absorbing realism. David Fleischer’s costumes are commensurately believable, adorning the cast with a persuasive sense of naturalism, even when we step into the realm of science fiction. The stage, in the round, is illuminated meaningfully by Paul Jackson, who demonstrates great care with how we perceive lights, in a tale based on the immense repercussions of our relationship with crude oil. Sound and music by Clemence Williams are intricately rendered, whether with their subtle influence or through bigger dramatic gestures, all effective in keeping our psyche deeply invested.

May wants always to make noble decisions, but there is something about her dedication to her own family unit that eventually appears selfish. We see May’s struggles for survival, and her earnest efforts in providing for Amy, and learn about the ignorance and the carelessness, in how we have conceived of the future. Oil encourages us to imagine alternatives, where we had perhaps previously believed that none exist. It contextualises existential threat in a way that makes us realise the inevitability of shifting our lives, and makes us want the notion of sustainability to henceforth become essential and unyieldingly ubiquitous.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Review: The Face Of Jizo (Old Fitz Theatre)

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Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Oct 28 – Nov 18, 2023
Playwright: Hisashi Inoue (translated By Roger Pulvers)
Director: David Lynch, Shingo Usami
Cast: Mayu Iwasaki, Shingo Usami
Images by Phil Erbacher

Theatre review
Mitsue is on the surface, a contented librarian in mid-century Hiroshima, but having lived through the devastating bombing by Americans only three years prior, her inner turmoil is much more profound than can be easily perceived. The 2001 play The Face Of Jizo by Hisashi Inoue 井上 ひさし may be set decades ago, but its reflections on survivor guilt reverberate beyond its narrative about one particular catastrophe. Along with serving as a reminder on the tragic consequences of war, The Face Of Jizo is concerned with how we emerge from trauma, emphasising the point that to live well, is often a matter of choices we make.

It is perhaps inevitable that the play’s gravity is central and severe, but there is also excellent humour coaxing us into the story and its stirring intentions. Directed by David Lynch and Shingo Usami, the show is charmingly inviting, with a palpable warmth that accompanies the harder edges of a sobering tale. Simultaneously gentle and heartrending, this theatrical experience proves enjoyable even though its themes are unquestionably foreboding.

Set design by Tobhiyah Stone Feller convey a sense of accuracy, for the time and place being depicted. The subtleties of Matt Cox’s lights, as well as his more dramatic manoeuvres, reveal a commendable attentiveness to the meaningful text. Music by Me-Lee Hay and sound design by Zachary Saric are appropriately restrained, called upon when necessary to add embellishment and refinement, to a thoughtful and sensitive work.

Actor Mayu Iwasaki brings both exuberance and poignancy to the role of Mitsue, with an extraordinary focus that keeps us compelled and hooked to her emotional journey. The aforementioned Usami plays the ghost of Mitsue’s father, similarly absorbing and persuasive, whether delivering joy or anguish, in a show that always takes care to render the light with the dark. The pair applies a distinct style of performance, for this translation by Roger Pulvers, to ensure that the English language never detracts from the cultural specificity being portrayed. Some of the adapted dialogue may feel awkward, but its sensibilities never for a moment, stray from mid-century Japan.

Guilt that turns inward, and that never finds resolution, can only be harmful. We see in Mitsue the futility of sorrowful regret and the damage it causes, having survived unspeakable losses. It is of course easier said than done, when urging a person to simply get over hardship of this magnitude. Indeed, the ray of hope should always be fundamental to any survival, but the grace of community is equally vital, to how we can heal, and how we can curtail the evil that always seems ready to inflict death and destruction.

www.redlineproductions.com.au

Review: The Lives Of Eve (KXT on Broadway)

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Venue: KXT on Broadway (Ultimo NSW), Oct 27 – Nov 11, 2023
Playwright: Stephen Sewell
Director: Kim Hardwick
Cast: Annie Byron, Helen O’Connor, Louisa Panucci, Noel Hodda
Images by 

Theatre review
Eve is as terrible a wife as she is a psychoanalyst, yet has strangely been able to maintain both a marriage and a career for decades. Stephen Sewell’s The Lives of Eve is deeply mercurial and academic, inspired heavily by the work of psychiatrist Jacques Lacan (1901-1981). The characters are fanciful, never actually authentic in their manifestations, with narratives that struggle to resonate. Sewell’s real interest however is in Lacan’s writing, which he attempts to recontextualize and expound. For those unfamiliar with that obscure domain, there is a four-and-a-half-thousand word document  in the foyer to help one prepare for the show.

Direction by Kim Hardwick tries to introduce a sense of believability, especially in more pedestrian scenes, during which Eve is seen to be fighting alternately, with her patient and her husband. Depictions of Eve’s dysfunctions are persuasive, although coming to an understanding of her problems seems to require enthusiasm for and prior familiarity with the Lacan material, which is probably too arduous a proposition for most.

Atmosphere for the production however is calibrated beautifully. Hannah Yardley’s set design delivers a dose of surrealism, with an abundance of crimson Persian style rugs enveloping surfaces of the performance space. Lights by Martin Kinnane introduce nuance and intensity, as do sounds by Jessica Pizzinga, both intricately and sensitively rendered, to communicate with accuracy the increasingly passionate temperaments being explored.

Actor Helen O’Connor is convincing with her submergence into the immensely cerebral qualities of the titular role. We may not always comprehend what she is tasked to convey, but Eve certainly appears to be enthralled by her various crises. Other cast members are understandably less assured, considering the often bizarre ways their characters are made to speak and act.

Not every work of theatre is meant for everyone. Art should always encourage idiosyncrasy, particularity and peculiarity. The Lives of Eve emerges from somewhere that seems detached from many contemporary realities, thus reflecting our artistic landscape’s admirable capacity for diversity. Art that does not do enough to connect however, could have a fraught relationship with its audience, or worse, one characterised only by apathy and nonchalance.

www.kingsxtheatre.com | www.whiteboxtheatre.com.au

Review: The Dictionary Of Lost Words (Sydney Theatre Company)

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Venue: Sydney Opera House (Sydney NSW), Oct 26 – Nov 16, 2023
Playwright: Verity Laughton from the novel by Pip Williams
Director: Jessica Arthur
Cast: Brett Archer, Rachel Burke, Tilda Cobham-Hervey, Raj Labade, Ksenja Logos, Angela Mahlatjie, Chris Pitman, Anthony Yangoyan
Images by Daniel Boud

Theatre review
It was the end of the 19th Century when Esme began cultivating a passion for collecting words. She had observed her father working with a team editing the Oxford Dictionary, and felt compelled to save the many words, familiar only to women of the lower classes, but neglected in that process of authoritative evaluation and screening. It is no accident that Esme’s narrative in the novel The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams coincides with women’s suffrage and their historic campaign for the right to vote.

It is certainly a meaningful work that examines the culture of exclusion in our institutions, and proffers an example of radical acceptance by those in positions of power and privilege. This stage adaptation by Verity Laughton retains the valuable message of the original, but is overly faithful to the form and style of the book. It is unfortunately a transposition that often feels staid, with insufficient liveliness and wit to truly excite or inspire.

Direction by Jessica Arthur too is missing elements of joy or playfulness, in a production that proves to be needlessly serious. The story is worthy of its creators’ earnestness, but at three hours, a greater variance and theatricality in its tone is required, as the audience tries to invest into Esme’s journey of two decades. Actor Tilda Cobham-Hervey plays the lead role with integrity, able to convey the character’s benevolence persuasively, and with a distinct vulnerability that makes us endear to her life story. The cast of eight is warm and cohesive, admirable for keeping us attentive, even if their message is relayed too gently.

Set design by Jonathon Oxlade features hundreds of pigeon holes, guided by a narrative that discusses the nature of categorisation and organisation, so central to the ways we structure our societies. A projection screen occupies the entire top half of our vista, with helpful (although not always elegantly rendered) video supplementing the action. Ailsa Paterson’s costumes are appropriately conservative in their depictions of life in the Edwardian era. Lights by Trent Suidgeest are flattering and romantic, occasionally injecting a sense of drama to disrupt the general placidity. Music and sounds by Max Lyandvert add to the melancholy, unable to help with the lack of verve, but beautiful nonetheless.

The word “lost” in the title connotes inadvertence, that there is a certain lack of intention when classes and categories of people are excluded. This may be true on some levels, but the persistent refusal to address and amend these inequities only demonstrates a conscious choice of persisting with injustice. Esme does not present herself as a strident activist, she never partook in hunger strikes, or stood next to Emily Davison who in 1913 took to the race tracks in protest, only to be killed by the king’s horse. Regardless, individuals are always capable of making a difference, even if one is resolutely mild in temperament and constitution, every effort to identify our ills and turn them for the better, is how progress can happen.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au | www.statetheatrecompany.com.au

Review: Beyond The Break (25A Belvoir)

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Venue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Oct 18 – 29, 2023
Playwright: Challito Browne
Director: Bobbie-Jean Henning
Cast: Challito Browne
Images by 

Theatre review
Identity has not come easy for Challito Browne. In Beyond the Break, we see him grapple with the complications of being mixed race, in an Australia that struggles to accept cultural difference, even if it has little claim to any real legitimacy, with its own dubious colonial origins. Not white enough for white folks, and too white for people of colour, the rejection he encounters comes from all sides. It is no wonder then, that Browne is thrust into a state of isolation, in the mind especially, where he finds company in unremitting introspection.

Beyond the Break is extraordinary in its thoughtfulness, with incredibly astute observations about humanity, expressed in ways that alternate unexpectedly between hilarity and heartache. Browne’s writing is disarmingly soulful, with a deep vulnerability that insists on our emotional investment, for a story that is ultimately about community, and the fundamental notion of belonging, that none can ever negate. It sheds light on the psyche for a look at how an individual like Browne makes sense of the world, and how he forms meaning in environments that persistently diminish and devalue his very existence. We are also given insightful depictions of ostracism, so that we may come to a greater understanding about the constructions of race and difference, and how white supremacy can manifest in devious ways, effectuated by all colours.

Directed by Bobbie-Jean Henning, the one-person show impresses with its richness, not only in cerebral terms, but also with the captivating entertainment that it provides. Henning ensures that we are amused, intrigued and challenged for the 70-minute duration, delivering theatre that keeps open our eyes, ears and hearts, to receive its important message. An immaculate set design by Brendan De La Hay conveys purity, to help us find beautiful transcendence in the experience. Frankie Clarke’s lights are  sensitive yet dynamic, persuasive with how it guides our sentimental responses through the production’s frequent tonal oscillations. Sounds by Johnny Yang are rendered with intricacy and rigour, bringing delicious drama to this surprisingly expansive discussion about one man’s ethnicity.

Browne is at least as strong a performer as he is a writer. His presence is resolute but warm, with a sense of generosity that makes even the more sardonic passages feel empathetic. The skill he displays is astonishing, with a level of agility and precision, along with an effortless confidence, that has us marveling at his artistic prowess, whilst keeping our minds firmly engaged in the ideas being presented.

When Browne says “I am Australian,” as he does repeatedly, the statement can feel like it means everything and nothing. Identity is illusory and impermanent, but the consequences are real, of how others regard the self, and indeed of how one regards themself. In negotiating the world, one can rarely have the privilege of being ephemeral or transient; we are required to be solid, to mean something, and to stand for something. We have responsibilities in kinship, friendship, and in citizenry. You have the freedom to be who you wish, but the duty to leave this a better place is incontrovertible.

www.instagram.com/like.water.entertainment | www.belvoir.com.au

Review: The Bridal Lament 哭嫁歌 (Performance Space/Carriageworks)

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Venue: Carriageworks (Eveleigh NSW), Oct 19-22, 2023
Director: Tessa Leong
Lead Artist & Performer: Rainbow Chan 陳雋然
Images by Joseph Mayers

Theatre review
Arriving as a child from Hong Kong in 1996, a year before the handover to China, Rainbow Chan 陳雋然 grew up like many Australians, between cultures. Now that we are in a moment that feels as though assimilation to whiteness is decisively a thing of the past (at least for now), immigrants like Chan are scrambling to fully reclaim their roots, for a state of identification more meaningful than before. It is not an abandonment of Australianness, but an evolution in the narrative of our survival, when we attempt to foster a greater connection with that which had to be left behind.

Through conversations and consultations with her mother Irene Cheung 張翠屏, which form the basis of The Bridal Lament 哭嫁歌, Chan reaches back to marital customs of her people to form an intricate study of traditions, many of which are obsolete, and in the process attains a new understanding of where she had come from. A key feature are the songs young women learn from their mothers in the Weitou dialect, that they sing for 3 days before crossing the threshold to become wives. Chan’s show is an archive of sorts, including some of those hitherto forgotten tunes, alongside her own compositions, for a theatrical presentation that offers a bridge that examines a particular collective history, preoccupied with a past yet feels so much to be about our future.

Chan’s music draws heavily from pop genres, but is unmistakeably poetic in nature. It stretches deeply in ways that ensure resonance, beyond cerebral concerns. Directed by Tessa Leong, The Bridal Lament 哭嫁歌 is tender yet intense, in its rendering of a contemporary Chinese-Australian perspective and attitude. As performer, Chan is captivating in this solo work, although portions of the staging can feel sparse, in need of more imaginative support of one woman and her immensely vast story.

Set and costumes by Al Joel and Emily Borghi are sophisticated, especially memorable for a highly ostentatious beaded archway evoking concepts of travel and searching, and that also allows for some truly magical theatricality, when combined with extraordinarily dynamic lights as conceived by Govin Ruben. Video projections by Rel Pham are another crucial element, as vehicle to relay fascinating minutiae from Chan’s research, and to inspire emotional responses, for these meditations that can never be divorced from longing and heartache.

When we cut our apron strings, is ironically when we become ready to draw from our mothers’ wealth of knowledge and experience. Being a woman is hard in this world, and guidance from mothers (biological or otherwise) is unequivocally invaluable. It is imperative that we honour women who have grown and aged, to fight against a hegemony that wishes to diminish them and render them invisible. We must understand that forces responsible for so many of our world’s deficiencies are the same ones that tell us not to believe women. Mothers may not always make things easy, but they often do know best.

www.performancespace.com.au | www.carriageworks.com.au

Review: Venus & Adonis (Seymour Centre)

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Venue: Seymour Centre (Chippendale NSW), Sep 29 – Oct 21, 2023
Playwright: Damien Ryan
Director: Damien Ryan
Cast: Anthony Gooley, Adele Querol, Jerome Meyer, Belinda Giblin, Bernadette Ryan, Christopher Tomkinson, Ava Madon, Akasha Hazard, Kevin MacIsaac, Oliver Ryan, Max Ryan, Dinitha Senevirathne, Liv Rey Laaksonen
Images by Kate Williams

Theatre review
William Shakespeare is preparing to stage a new poem, with his lover Aemilia Lanyer in the lead. Meanwhile, Shakespeare’s own family is suffering from neglect, as his attention is divided among work, the affair, and dealing with a venereal disease resulting from his indiscretions. Lanyer, a poet in her own right, takes every opportunity to assert her progressive values, not only on the project, but also in all her professional and personal relationships.

Damien Ryan’s 3-hour play Venus & Adonis, named after the very poem at its inspirational centre, travels along many tangents, in an effort to contemporarise the most classical of storytelling. It is conscious of divergent perspectives, and attempts to be inclusive especially of feminine viewpoints, that have been traditionally ignored over centuries of Shakespearean reverence. There is an enjoyable theatricality to Ryan’s work as both writer and director, but the multi-faceted nature of the piece might prove inconsistent in its ability to engage. Its competing textures seem unlikely to be wholly captivating for those who need a more conventional commitment to a stronger, more defined point of view.

Ryan’s own stage design is surprisingly versatile, as we find our imaginations morphing effortlessly along with the many spatial transformations that occur in the play. Bernadette Ryan’s costumes are sensual, and memorable for the sense of luxury they introduce. Lights by Sophie Parker are beautiful in a painterly manner, and sounds by Jay Cameron although appropriately dramatic, have a tendency to be abrupt in their manipulations of atmosphere.

Actor Anthony Gooley plays a vulnerable Shakespeare, bringing depths of emotion that reveal a greater humanity, in an art form that has the ability to connect beyond the confines of words and narratives. Adele Querol as Lanyer is rigorous and passionate, very persuasive as a true bohemian, full of daring and conviction, whether as a woman of the 16th or 21st Century. Highly noteworthy too are Belinda Giblin and Christopher Tomkinson, playing Queen Elizabeth I and Richard Burbage respectively, both performers robust with humour and meaning, completely magnetic whenever given opportunity to occupy centre stage. Jerome Meyer is both precise and instinctual in the role of drag artist Nathaniel Field, but several jokes pertaining to gender, a main concern of the production, could easily be construed as transphobic.

To be able to look properly ahead, requires a rich understand of the past. Even for those of us who wish for a clean break from histories, need intricate knowledge on the machinations of people and society, in order that we can keep steering our lives on improved trajectories. Not all of us want to leave the past behind however, because what represents pure torment for some, is for others a symbol of their glory days. It is always a difficult entanglement. In our democratic communities, values will differ and beliefs will deviate, but the thing most worth fighting for, is a way to attain harmony, within the infinite variations of how we each experience the world.

www.seymourcentre.com | www.sportforjove.com.au