Venue: Ensemble Theatre (Kirribilli NSW), Oct 23 – Nov 29, 2014.
Playwright: Joe Penhall
Director: Anna Crawford
Cast: Ian Meadows, Dorian Nkono, Sean Taylor
Image by Clare Hawley

Theatre review (originally published at Auditorium Magazine)
Health services are a crucial part of all civilisations, where access to medical professionals is a basic human right, regardless of class and creed. The subject of mental health is a growing area of concern in the West, with awareness and understanding of relevant issues fast improving through our communities. Joe Penhall’s script centres around Christopher, a mental health patient with the UK’s National Health Service. Surrounding him are two doctors, Bruce is the younger of the pair, idealistic but naive, and Robert is the authority figure of the hospital, seasoned and carnivorously ambitious. A fight ensues with Christopher caught in the middle, and as the plot unfolds, the play’s themes expand simultaneously. Christopher’s African ethnicity and low social status are the linchpin that brings into discussion, not just the intriguing process of psychiatric diagnosis and the health industry in general, but also race relations in contemporary settings and the machinations of authority (and its betrayal) in our daily social structures.

The ideas are big, but Penhall’s story is precise and simple. His captivating dialogue is rich with humour, controversy and intellect, consistently entertaining our senses and challenging our ethics. Some portions could be more succinct, but Penhall’s words and their rhythms are brilliantly crafted, as evidenced by the thrilling and energetic narratives that the show’s cast and director are able to create from the text. Anna Crawford’s direction is decidedly wonderful. The comedy of the piece is powerfully delivered, and the immense joy of being in an auditorium with laughter erupting at every turn is simply theatrical magic. Crawford introduces a daring freedom that encourages her actors to make risky choices, and much to our delight, they all seem to work. Likewise, the many scenes of altercation are loaded with explosive drama, always with a threatening tension and dangerous intrigue. Philosophical and ethical arguments in the work are the ingredients that make it feel substantial, and they are perfectly tuned, disallowed from disrupting dramatic flow, but often given an ambiguity that makes the ideas seductively confronting.

The use of space is however, not always elegant. Actors are frequently positioned so that their facial expressions are not available to big sections of the audience, which can be frustrating as well as distracting. Set pieces are composed of generic furniture elements from public sector offices, all terribly unattractive. The space has not been designed to be a realistic one, yet the several chairs and tables seem to use the notion of realism or accuracy as a convenient justification. A work of this calibre requires greater imagination and creativity in its visual design, and not be allowed to pale in comparison.

In the role of Robert is Sean Taylor, whose virtuoso performance bears the kind of astonishing glory that leaves a lasting impression. The most dangerous villain is the one who combines truths with lies, so that you are kept on his side, giving him benefit of the doubt until too late. Taylor makes it hard for us to know if his character is an evil racist doctor, or a progressive thinker, and our struggle in trying to figure him out is a masochistic pleasure. The actor is full of confidence and his presence is all-consuming; we cannot keep our eyes off of him. Taylor’s marvellous voice provides all that we need to know, and his face expresses everything his character wishes, but also contradicts the doctor’s intentions.

The show is thoroughly rehearsed, with every actor appearing to know exactly what they wish to achieve, yet the stage feels to be a spontaneous one. Dorian Nkono is extremely lively and likeable as Christopher, the patient who may or may not be schizophrenic. Nkono’s control over his physicality and the way he uses movement enrich the role and provide a vibrant energy that elevates the play to a level of theatre that is more than words. His sense for comedy is outstanding. Nkono is a truly funny actor whose approach ranges from subtle to slapstick, but an emphasis on storytelling makes his work authentic and compelling.

The young Dr Bruce is played by Ian Meadows who has the arduous task of maintaining composure as the only unassertive personality in the show. He often gets overwhelmed by his gargantuan counterparts, but he resists irrelevant exaggeration, and delivers a performance that is ultimately a truthful one. Meadow’s work is less flamboyant, which means that the ideological arguments he represents can get subsumed at certain points, but he manages to find a climax at the concluding moments to match in energy and produce an impressive ending to the piece.

Racism and mental illness are contentious issues that elude easy definition. We understand them in abstraction, but how they are discussed and dealt with in reality involves constant negotiation between vacillations of subjectivities. In Blue/Orange,  the powerful and the powerless collide in a system that attempts to be fair, just and democratic. We might all want the best for the world that we share, but our perspectives are different, and finding agreement on a unified destination becomes problematic. The doctor should know what is best for the patient, but the patient is not without rights and opinions. In assigning authority to some, society risks the removal of rights from others, but the ironic creation of power structures seems to be the only mechanism we have for finding harmony.

www.ensemble.com.au

Venue: Ensemble Theatre (Kirribilli NSW), Sep 4 – Oct 18, 2014.
Playwright: Jon Robin Baitz
Director: Mark Kilmurry
Cast: Lisa Gormley, Deborah Kennedy, Diana McLean, Stephen Multari, Ken Shorter

Theatre review
It is Christmas time and we visit the home of an older Californian couple, both prominent figures from the right wing of politics. Polly and Lyman Wyeth are not always politically correct, but their self awareness gives them an air of relaxed charm. Their children Brook and Trip have arrived for the festivities, but we soon discover that all is not well. Brook is set to publish a tell-all memoir and takes the opportunity to reveal the book to her family. Jon Robin Baitz’s Other Desert Cities, is a tale about the damage our closest ones inflict upon us, family secrets, and the stories we dream up in place of missing pieces. We keep the truth from one another because we think that people need to be protected, and also because of shame. We can choose our friends, and run away from them when intimate revelations become problematic, but family ties are hard to break, so we keep the peace, by perpetuating lies.

Baitz’s script is classically structured. It is amusing, gripping and surprising, with the potential to be incredibly moving. Its themes of family disintegration, mental illness, regret and guilt are all loaded with sentimentality, and when handled well, could be heartbreaking. Mark Kilmurry’s direction brings out the dramatic conflicts of the story with some success, but tension does not build up sufficiently. It is an energetic show, with good amounts of shouting and crying, but the plot does not always engage. The cast seems to be discordant, each finding separate emphases, and their chemistry does not quite convince.

Lisa Gormley invests heavily into her character’s depression and her torment is clear to see. Her early scenes before confrontations begin, feel forced and inauthentic, but her work in the second act is the show’s saving grace. Ken Shorter’s naturalism is a joy to watch. His presence is genuine and strong, but he brings a warmth to the role that does not always serve the narrative well.

Ailsa Paterson’s set design confines the Wyeths in the 1970s. Their home is dated, and we see that they have not moved on for over twenty years. We live the consequences of our decisions, good or bad. There is no assurance that doing the right thing would lead to brighter days, but the Wyeths’ story gives hope that resolutions can be found if you try hard enough.

www.ensemble.com.au

Venue: Ensemble Theatre (Kirribilli NSW), Jul 24 – Aug 30, 2014.
Playwright: John Misto
Director: Anna Crawford
Cast: Eric Beecroft, Jeanette Cronin, Belinda Giblin, Lizzie Mitchell, Kate Raison

Theatre review
More than a geographical location, Hollywood is a mystical place. It exists in the minds of many in different forms, whether glorified or castigated, and it refuses to be ignored. Its movies have touched people the world over, and its legends are at least as well known as the stories they tell. John Misto’s Dark Voyager is about screen sirens of the previous century. Their legacies may not appeal as widely as the personalities on today’s tabloids, but for those who share Misto’s fascination, the intensity of their resonances have not faded with time.

Dark Voyager is partly historical biography, and partly fiction. Through the famed rivalry between Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, Misto has created a new narrative that brings together figures from Hollywood, the U.S. government, the press and the mafia, culminating in the demise of the era’s biggest star, Marilyn Monroe. Misto’s script is funny, lively and bitchy, fashioned after the way Davis and Crawford had wished to be seen. There is a lot of glitz, glamour and joking frivolity, but the writing does surprise with moments of poignancy that emerge to offer some balance and gravitas. Monroe’s presence is artfully crafted so that the show’s comedy remains even while we witness her tragic destruction. It might be an exaggeration to label the work feminist, but it does offer its heroines strong multidimensional voices, and brings to the fore some of society’s appalling mistreatment of these women (and women in general). Ultimately, the greatest achievement of Misto’s writing is the profusion of one-liners that tickle, sting and amuse.

Anna Crawford’s intelligent direction brings out all that is joyous and dramatic in the script. Her acute awareness of character chemistry and hierarchy, as well as her flair for spacial usage, has created an enthralling production that addresses our appetite for laughter, nostalgia and flamboyant theatrics. Crawford’s efforts in creating characters that are larger than life, yet psychologically believable gives the play a seductive quality that combines a sense of idolatry with a less lofty verisimilitude. These women are both feared and revered.

The production is designed beautifully, with Anna Gardiner’s dazzling set converting the venue into a luxurious Californian home, with furniture and fixtures that are appropriate to the period and social status being explored. Everything looks exquisite, extravagant and fabulously expensive, and the greed of its inhabitants become palpable. Lighting by Matthew Marshall is suitably colourful and dynamic. Marshall’s work is sometimes sensitive and sometimes daring, but it is always just right. The tone of the show varies frequently, and the lights are crucial to these emotive and atmospheric transformations. It must also be noted that the show’s stage manager Erin Harvey does a beautiful job of keeping technical aspects flowing invisibly and without a hitch.

An undeniable strength of this production is the accuracy at which the movie stars are physically presented. Hair and makeup by Peggy Carter is not at all heavy handed, yet all three women are materialised before our eyes with astonishing results. It may be convenient to imagine that the actors are cast for their appearance, but their work dispels that notion comprehensively. Jeanette Cronin as Bette Davis is formidable. Her performance is spirited, hilarious and frightening. She is relied upon to move the plot in its various trajectories, and the clarity and precision at which she achieves this, shows impressive skill and intuition. The liveliness Cronin brings to this stage is combustible, and her light is blinding for the entire duration.

Joan Crawford is played by Kate Raison who leaves us dumbfounded by the incredible resemblance she manufactures. In fact, one is often caught gawking at Raison’s face, but her efforts are much more than surface. The Crawford we have here is complex and unexpectedly human. We catch intriguing glimpses into her private world that reveals interesting aspects to her sexuality, ambition, and cruelty that Raison portrays with delicious cunning. Marilyn Monroe is most remembered for her beauty and glamour, both qualities that Lizzie Mitchell replicates effortlessly, and her splendid comic timing wins over many of the audience’s biggest laughs. Imitations of Monroe’s idiosyncratic voice and gestures are commonplace, but Mitchell’s depiction of her hidden and inherent sadness is unexpected and completely heartbreaking. This is where the show finds its soul, and although fleeting and subtle, it adds a much needed dimension of gravity.

Also wonderful is Belinda Giblin who plays a despicable entertainment columnist. Giblin has the power required to represent a woman of great wealth and stature, as well as delightful comedy chops that keeps her endeared to her crowd. Eric Beecroft is visibly young, in appearance and experience, but has great conviction and exhibits a good understanding of the play’s humour. This is a captivating ensemble with polish and energy that has identified in a new script, all the opportunities for engaging storytelling and a whole lot of fun.

Misto’s writing has many references to homosexuality. In fact, it attributes the success of the film What Ever Happened To Baby Jane? (and therefore, ongoing stardom of Crawford and Davis) to its gay audience. Indeed, this is a production with distinct queer sensibilities. Its comedy and pathos comes out of the realm of gay culture, and its longstanding adoration for strong and independent women, but it is not only for gay audiences. Dark Voyager is simply a play that will speak to bold and liberated women everywhere, and of course, to the people who love them.

www.ensemble.com.au