Review: Death And The Maiden (Sydney Theatre Company / Melbourne Theatre Company)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

sydneytheatreco Venue: Wharf 1 Sydney Theatre Company (Walsh Bay NSW), Aug 28 – Oct 17, 2015
Playwright: Ariel Dorfman
Director: Leticia Cáceres
Cast: Eugene Gilfedder, Steve Mouzakis, Susie Porter
Image by Jeff Busby

Theatre review
Paulina resides in the space of terror. Captured, tortured, and raped; not only have the fractures in her world endured 15 years since the devastating event, her thirst for revenge is becoming an increasingly uncontrollable force that drives her to the extremities of Ariel Dorfman’s Death And The Maiden. Paulina was blindfolded during her ordeal but remembers the voice of her rapist, and during a chance encounter one night, she identifies a kindly, mild-mannered man Roberto to be the perpetrator, and proceeds to keep him captive in her home. Stripped and tied to a chair, Roberto is threatened by Paulina’s revolver and her accusations, but maintains his innocence. Paulina fluctuates between demanding a confession and wanting his life, but we are never sure if Roberto is in fact the right man. Dorfman’s work is dramatic and tense, with an undeniable political emphasis. Inspired by Chile’s progression from totalitarianism to democracy in the 1980’s, difficult questions about finding justice for victims of the state are explored. In an Australian context, the most direct association one could make would involve the continuing mistreatment of our Indigenous communities, but there are no obvious adaptations in the production that attempt to find a more specific point of relevance for its audience.

Scenic and lighting design by Nick Schilieper reduces the space and concentrates the action efficiently onto a small stage, so that nothing distracts us from the show’s intimate sequences. The leanness of its appearance however, conveys only a monotonously cold atmosphere. Correspondingly, Leticia Cáceres’ work as director seems to pay fastidious attention only to performances by its three players. The production feels insufficiently ambitious in scope, eschewing a bolder use of space that could have assisted us in relating to the unfolding plot better, by depicting either the oppressiveness of Paulina’s home and mental state, or a wider and more identifiable political and social environment. Composer and sound designer The Sweats excels in his control over atmosphere and scene transitions. He introduces a sophistication, along with a sense of drama to a staging that is often too minimalist in its overall style.

Leading lady Susie Porter presents a likeable and convincing Paulina. Porter’s cerebral portrayal gives integrity to the story being told, and her gracious presence keeps us firmly on her character’s side, but her performance is ultimately a tepid one that lacks a certain operatic quality required for the production to engage more powerfully. Porter’s interpretation is one steeped in depression, where a more dynamic madness would allow the narrative’s controversial aspects greater potency, and therefore elicit a more robust response from its audience. The actor’s work comes across psychologically accurate and very thoughtful, but the Latin American text asks for a fire that may only exist beyond rationality, which itself (being rational or not) is after all, one of its chief concerns. In the role of Paulina’s husband Gerardo, is Steve Mouzakis, who takes every opportunity to raise temperatures in the theatre. It is a smaller part but one that moves through different emotional phases, and the performer brings a spirited passion to each of them, reflecting an impressive conviction that viewers can no doubt appreciate. Eugene Gilfedder makes an interesting villain of Roberto. Probably not quite as charismatic as Porter, and therefore tilting the adversarial balance slightly off between duelling characters, but nonetheless an intriguing personality. He keeps us guessing, which is central to the play’s effectiveness, and provides fine tension at its concluding moments.

Death And The Maiden contains poignant moments of philosophy and drama, but at 25 years old, its resonances require translation. We are certainly no strangers to concepts of political upheaval, war and terror, but what we view to be tangible threats have changed. In spite of the production’s success at achieving a good level of believability, the play feels distant. We are reminded that our concerns have evolved, and although we often consider our civilisations to have improved, the fact remains that the things that haunt us never go away; they only take the form of something else. The fears in the play are different from ours today, but the vulnerabilities we share are interminable, and it is that darkness that Paulina needs to release with indomitable fury.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au | www.mtc.com.au/

3Sep2015

Review: Dark Vanilla Jungle (Mad March Hare Theatre Company)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

madmarch Venue: Old 505 Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Sep 1 -12, 2015
Playwright: Philip Ridley
Directors: Fiona Hallenan-Barker & Emma Louise
Cast: Claudia Barrie
Image by Daina Marie Photography

Theatre review
Finding a way to accurately articulate the problems that our societies face is never easy. We can come up with convenient sound bites that attempt to encapsulate what it is that we mean, but we risk trivialising issues through the abstractions that inevitably come with semantic abbreviations. Philip Ridley’s Dark Vanilla Jungle does the opposite. In his deeply harrowing one-woman play, teenager Andrea is the lightning rod at which our failures as a modern community converge. In its oppressive 90 minute duration, we are presented a life experienced through endless days of horror, none of which are due to any fault of Andrea’s own. Her innocence is the target of every evil that walks the planet, while all that is good lays comatose and unable to provide any protection. The story is about sexism, capitalism and poverty, the disintegration of community, and the dissolution of humanity that is occurring in our contemporary lives. It is raw, unflinchingly cruel, and devastating, but it is important.

Under the direction of Fiona Hallenan-Barker and Emma Louise, the production becomes an exercise in the depiction of pain. We are an audience numbed by the 24-hour news cycle, calloused by images of dead children appearing alongside idiot billionaires running for office. The need to communicate trauma is urgent in Dark Vanilla Jungle, and its persistence overwhelms our natural impulse to evade its barrage of very dark emotions. The long script is subtly broken up into sections presented with astute tonal variations that keep us engaged, and the gradual revelations in its narrative are handled with a finesse that provide just enough shock value so that their gravity is communicated without being unduly sensationalist or distracting. The use of a clear plastic curtain separating us from the action builds a sentimental and cerebral distance that may encourage more analysis in the viewing experience, but the sacrifice in terms of an opportunity for more emotional involvement is perhaps too great. The show is an undeniably intense one, but the plot structure requires greater care in its second half to sustain its power. After some unbelievably harsh details are divulged, the play falls into a disappointing slump, which it eventually does recover from, but the flaw is an apparent one in an otherwise extremely accomplished rendition of a very difficult text.

Claudia Barrie’s astounding performance as Andrea impresses with a savage depth that is rarely encountered. Her fearlessness in embodying such a degree of gruesome atrocity gives us nowhere to hide, and we can only respond with compassion. The earthly complexity she manufactures, together with the portrayal of her character’s fundamental pureness, gives Andrea a palpable authenticity that we connect closely and immediately with. We are angered by her torment and wish to protect her, and this instinct makes us examine stories like hers, and other injustices of our world, with renewed resolve and passion. Even in the darkest winters of the Antarctica, flowers are poised to bloom. Life is resilient beyond our conception, but our neglect of the disadvantaged is a transgression that needs to be rescinded at this moment.

www.madmarchtheatreco.com

28Aug2015

Review: The Aliens (Outhouse Theatre Co)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

outhouse Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Aug 25 – Sep 19, 2015
Playwright: Annie Baker
Director: Craig Baldwin
Cast: James Bell, Jeremy Waters, Ben Wood
Image by Rupert Reid

Theatre review
Social outcasts are a sad fact of life. Communities are built upon identities that will inevitably exclude “undesirables”, some of whom can form sub-cultures, and others are left to their own devices. Annie Baker’s extraordinary The Aliens features the invisible and ignored; people judged to be of no value to economies, and are indeed, a burden to our gross domestic product. We refuse to acknowledge their contributions to society, because they contradict our definitions of what is valuable, and are considered to be of no benefit to our selfish needs. Baker’s writing is the most sensitive and tender piece of theatre one can wish to encounter. It presents downtrodden lives with an effortless humanity, looking at its neglected personalities and all their open wounds that fail to heal, with a persuasive compassion. Baker turns her strangers into intimately familiar beings, by revealing their pains and desires in a way that we can immediately recognise, and by her deft transformations of peculiarities into charming eccentricities.

Direction by Craig Baldwin is idiosyncratic and powerful. Every line of dialogue is replete with poignancy, along with the many purposeful silent pauses that occur to disarm and entrance. The play is rich with subtexts and references that resonate with great effectiveness, to communicate its message of acceptance and social inclusion. The vulnerability of its characters is portrayed with an unexpected dignity, so that their foibles and weaknesses cease to be strange or reprehensible. There is little in terms of narrative in the piece, but the relationships between its three men are carefully harnessed and perfectly realised. The unusual and intense representation of platonic love between men may be rarely seen on stage, but we believe every second of their intimate friendship, and it moves us from beginning to end.

KJ masks his sorrows with substances and laughter. Played by Ben Wood, the role ranges from being very silly to deeply sorrowful, and the actor runs that entire gamut of emotive and technical demands with wonderful fluency. There is a playfulness in Wood’s approach that urges us to meet KJ’s stories with an open heart, and the results are marvellously affecting. Jeremy Waters as Jasper, is heartbroken and heartbreaking. Coupling a beautiful innocence with impressive presence, Waters’ performance is irresistible, and also completely arresting. His style is understated yet robust, and charismatic beyond belief. In the role of awkward teenager Evan is James Bell, who lifts our spirits with a simple but accurate depiction of purity, and whose gentle approach provides a dimension of aching sentimentality that gives the show its exquisite melancholia.

Also noteworthy are the production’s visual design. Hugh O’Connor’s work on set and costumes is restrained but transportative. Its Americaness is convincing without being deafening, and his vibrant use of colour is a necessary and welcome counterbalance to an otherwise depressive environment. Lighting designer Benjamin Brockman’s adventurous engagement with the incessant atmospheric shifts of the text, is a potent element that expertly guides us through the complex quandary of emotions that is The Aliens.

Anyone can fall, because nobody is invincible. In Annie Baker’s play, we see the kindness that people can have for each other, but also the care that is missing in much of our lives. It discloses the nature of how we do or do not look after each other, and evokes notions of unconditional love that many have forgotten. The outsiders of The Aliens connect in the most meaningful way possible, and watching their story unfold brings to mind our own interactions with the world; where we are successful, and where we flounder. As Australia’s attention to economic development becomes more obsessive than ever before, our interest in the ones who fall behind must grow accordingly. Instead, our political votes go to those who claim to protect our financial well being, and those who demonstrate consciousness beyond money, are struggling more and more with each passing election.

www.oldfitztheatre.com | www.outhousetheatre.org

25Aug2015

Review: Mothers And Sons (Ensemble Theatre)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

Venue: Ensemble Theatre (Kirribilli NSW), Aug 21 – Sep 27, 2015
Playwright: Terrence McNally
Director: Sandra Bates
Cast: Tim Draxl, Thomas Fisher, Jason Langley, Anne Tenney
Image by Clare Hawley

Theatre review
In Mothers And Sons, Terrence McNally uses the simplest of stories to present a range of thoughtful and provocative themes that are relevant to both our contemporary concerns, and to perennial troubles of human nature. Katharine comes to visit an impossibly perfect gay couple, Cal and Will, at their apartment in Manhattan. Andre (Katharine’s son and Cal’s previous partner) had died of AIDS 20 years ago, and it is only now that Katharine decides to pick up the pieces, and to find resolution with demons of the past that continue to haunt her. McNally’s writing is emotional, intelligently meaningful, and striking in its lyrical beauty. There is also an engaging humour in its dry wit and dark comedy that underscore the tormented relationships being dissected.

Sandra Bates’ direction of the piece explores with sensitivity, the many social issues and personal afflictions characteristic of the play. There is a deliberate gravitas that gives the production its integrity, and whether dealing with intimate matters like resentment and regret, or wider subjects of kinship and homophobia, Bates is able to give them all a reverential emphasis that encourages its audience to handle with care. The play tends however, to be too serious in tone, especially at its early stages, where our encounter with personalities require a lighter touch.

Played by Anne Tenney, Katharine is a staunch figure, a mean old woman whose incessant use of the word “hate” reveals as much about herself as it does her pessimistic view of, well, everything. Tenney’s portrayal is psychologically convincing and ultimately a moving one, but the comical eccentricities of her character’s melancholic despair are not embraced with enough power. The actor delivers a few laughs over the course of the show, but the exuberance of the text is frequently downplayed to accommodate a more literal interpretation of Katharine’s depressed experience of the world. Jason Langley is an extremely gentle Cal, very amiable and authentic, but insufficiently agitated in his tensions with Katharine, and often too subtle with his passion for his gay rights and lovers. Both actors create together, a stunning final scene of breathtaking sentimentality, but the arduous journey towards the play’s conclusion could be managed with greater, and more entertaining, turbulence. Adding a dimension of liveliness to proceedings is Tim Draxl in the supporting role of Cal’s husband Will. Draxl sustains an impressive energy through sequences of shifting temperaments, and is relied upon to provide breaths of fresh air at each entrance, to a very restrained stage.

We all feel the trajectory of time and the way it moves things forward, with or without our selves. Katharine is deeply unhappy, but she refuses to accept the transformations that occur around her, and withdraws from participating in the joys of life that are easily within reach. The feelings of being hard done-by are familiar to everyone, and Mothers And Sons illustrates with excellent clarity, the anguish of being enslaved by one’s own obstinacy. It also persuades us on the changing nature of the family unit; how we conceive of same-sex marriages and the bearing of children within those unions. A woman unable to reconcile her homophobia with her son’s sexuality punishes much more than herself. Hate tries to contaminate its environment, and often it succeeds, but truth and the human conscience has a way of defeating its poison, even if the process needs to drudge through generations of struggle and wasted lives.

www.ensemble.com.au

22Aug2015

Review: Kaleidoscope (Theatre21)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

theatre21 Venue: M2 Gallery (Surry Hills NSW), Aug 19 – 23, 2015
Playwright: Charlie O’Grady
Director: Finn Davis
Cast: Harry Winsome
Image by Alex Smiles

Theatre review
Gabriel is a young trans man who has been transitioning for four years, but who still finds it hard to leave his home for the big wide world in the mornings. On the day of our encounter, he struggles in front of a mirror for 90 minutes, and we witness how difficult it is for him to do the most basic of things; to get dressed and exit his front door. Stories about transgender experiences are not hard to come by, especially at this very point in time, as mainstream consciousness gains awareness of issues surrounding trans people, but Charlie O’Grady’s Kaleidoscope is an articulate and exceptionally insightful expression of the realities of trans youth at our specific day and age. The tale remains one characterised by pain and conflict, but it is an au courant representation of the continual evolution of ideologies and language in the discussion of gender. O’Grady’s script is sensitive, powerful, cerebral, emotional, and very repetitive. It takes pains to describe Gabriel’s entrapment with circular and recurring motifs that can frustrate its audience, but it serves to depict the persistent turbulence that Gabriel goes through with every breath of his life. Early sections of the play are overtly didactic, which is probably helpful for most viewers who are unfamiliar with the climate under examination, although a greater sense of sophistication with tone could make things more palatable.

Staging of the work is straightforward, but excessively so. Gabriel is in his bedroom, speaking into the mirror for over an hour, and virtually nothing changes. The monologue format is a challenging beast, not just for those on stage, but also for an audience that needs more than a fascinating subject, especially when the show runs for more than several minutes. We need definite transformations of scenes so that our senses can stay engaged, and we need to feel clear shifts in the character’s journey so that we can stay connected. Kaleidoscope however, delivers a long and continuous oration that, although very coherent and truthful, often proves to be too unvarying for our attention to stay intimate with. Harry Winsome’s performance is a solid one, and he impresses with the fluency of his lines, never stumbling over the extremely extensive and demanding strands of words. The emotions he conveys can seem intense and forceful, but they rarely translate with sufficient depth and authenticity to captivate; we hear his thoughts objectively, without being able to relate with his sentimentalities truthfully.

Gabriel is at war with the world, and with himself. He thinks that his story is about finding acceptance in the world, but it is clear that the biggest hurdle to his own happiness is himself. On many levels, the play is a universal one. We all come into adulthood with doubt and challenges, and finding permission to live freely is never easy. Gabriel obsesses over his reflection, thinking that it is the gaze of others that oppresses him, but like anyone, he must come to realise that the only affirmation worth receiving is from himself, and until he stops waiting for consent to arrive from without, can he allow his own emancipation to occur.

www.facebook.com/Theatre21Australia

21Aug2015

Review: The Tempest (Bell Shakespeare)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

bellshakespeare
Venue: Sydney Opera House (Sydney NSW), Aug 19 – Sep 18, 2015
Playwright: William Shakespeare
Director: John Bell
Cast: Robert Alexander, Matthew Backer, Felix Gentle, Brian Lipson, Arky Michael, Hazem Shammas, Maeliosa Stafford, Damien Strouthos, Eloise Winestock
Image by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
Shakespeare’s fantastical masterpiece The Tempest, with all its mystique and magic, is almost an allegory for the transportative and imaginary qualities of the world of theatre. On Prospero’s island, anything can happen, and on the stage, it is precisely that boundless unpredictability that makes it a special, and for many, sacred space. Whether it is the stories of everyday that are being presented, or manifesting scenarios beyond the wildest of dreams, theatre has the ability to provide something extraordinary to all its participants.

Like Prospero abandoning the magical arts at the play’s end, John Bell directs his last production with this rendition of The Tempest. The cast he has amassed is an impressive one, and Bell’s extensive acting background is clear to see, in the fascinating and intricate characters being brought to life. Every player is detailed, energetic and palpably present, yet the resultant show is oddly placid. Themes of the text fail to resonate. Ideas such as the distinctions we draw between nations, between nature and civilisation, between freedom and confinement, struggle to find illumination, even though their presences in modern life remain relevant. Exoticism is explored well in the show, but its sense of adventurous fantasy is not always established with sufficient dynamism. Music by Alan John and sound design by Nate Edmondson are outstanding features; helping to drive the production through atmospheric transformations and exquisite moments of ethereality. Less successful are its visual elements that seem to lack whimsy and ambition. The story being told is celestial and outlandish, but what we see is staid and dated. Even exits and entrances are awkwardly managed to accommodate the inconvenient access to stage wings of the uninspired set.

Prospero is played by Brian Lipson, whose nuanced and vibrant performance provides sustenance for the entire plot, and whose sharp focus keeps us compelled. The production suffers from an overall lack of poignancy, but Lipson depicts emotions with gravitas and complexity that assist with some level of audience identification. Arky Michael and Hazem Shammas are a show-stealing couple whose mischievous antics are a persistent source of amusement. They create some of the most memorable sequences with brilliantly broad comedic interpretations of their dual roles (Michael plays Sebastian and Trinculo, and Shammas is Antonio and Stephano), captivating us with what looks to be an updated, and improved, Laurel and Hardy act.

The story is about kingdoms, sorcery, and heavenly creatures, but the show does not bear the majesty of the famed text. With its delicate and sincere approach, it is easy to be disappointed by the production’s simplicity, even though the thoroughness of its thespian executions are evident. William Shakespeare’s imagination is a genius that is unparalleled, and it seems that our meagre capacities in the dark auditorium requires greater facilitation, in order to achieve the same vision he had intended.

www.bellshakespeare.com.au

12Aug2015

Review: Ruby Moon (Samsonite Productions)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

samsoniteproductions Venue: 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

8Aug2015

Review: The Present (Sydney Theatre Company)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

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.

The Present 2015 Sydney Theatre Company

The Present 2015 Sydney Theatre Company Cate Blanchett

The Present 2015 Sydney Theatre Company

The Present 2015 Sydney Theatre Company Cate Blanchett

The Present 2015 Sydney Theatre Company

The Present 2015 Sydney Theatre Company Cate Blanchett

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

7Aug2015

Review: Artwork (Carriageworks)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

Venue: Carriageworks (Eveleigh NSW), Aug 5 – 8, 2015
Artists: Branch Nebula

Theatre review
In Branch Nebula’s Artwork, eight members of the general public respond to a job advertisement and are put on stage at short notice. They follow prompts and instructions provided in a variety of ways, and become the performers of a theatrical piece before our eyes. The results are stunning. Our senses are skilfully engaged by a talented team that includes Mirabelle Wouters (set and lighting design) and Phil Downing (sound design), who create a highly sophisticated atmosphere wherein the cast carries out tasks that become the content of the show unfolding.

The range of activities is plotted shrewdly. Even though stories and narratives are never manufactured in a conventional sense, the audience is forced to establish meaning from personal perspectives based on the collection of symbols that arise from the work’s very articulate abstractions. In addition to machinations of the actual artwork occurring on stage, our attention is drawn to further themes about work and of art in general, which it explores at varying levels of subtlety. In the realm of work, ideas about the economy and capitalism relating to individual volition and the objectification of the disadvantaged, make for the show’s most pointed moments. Concepts about artistic intention also resonate with power, as we witness the “workers” carrying out mindless undertakings, as we formulate for ourselves, streams of meanings and consequences independent of their subjective processes and experiences.

Artwork is a gentle exploration into democracy and social equity. It looks at the state of our societies as they exist, and implicates its audiences and participants into the ways our world is allowed to function. The piece places us in the position of privilege, in order that we may achieve greater awareness about the failures of social and political systems, of which our involvement cannot be refused. In the stillness of Artwork, we are confronted with the fractures of our humanity, but we also discover its inherent and invulnerable strength, and a precarious hopefulness that we cannot help but embrace.

www.branchnebula.com | www.carriageworks.com.au

6Aug2015

Review: Seventeen (Belvoir St Theatre)

Posted in Theatre by Suzy Wrong

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.