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Review: Cyrano De Bergerac (Sydney Theatre Company)

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Venue: Sydney Theatre at Walsh Bay (Sydney NSW), Nov 11 – Dec 20, 2014
Playwright: Edmond Rostand (adapted by Andrew Upton)
Director: Andrew Upton
Cast: Alan Dukes, Gabriel Gilbert-Dey, George Kemp, Dale March, Josh McConville, Kenneth Moraleda, Eryn Jean Norvill, Yalin Ozucelik, Michael Pigott, Richard Roxburgh, Chris Ryan, Bruce Spence, Emily Tomlins, Aaron Tsindos, David Whitney, Julia Zemiro
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review (originally published at Auditorium Magazine)
A star is more than a celebrity. Richard Roxburgh is one of Australia’s greatest actors, the kind who seems to be able to turn everything he touches into gold. It is no wonder then, that Edmond Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac is once again revived, with Roxburgh in the title role. Cyrano’s magical gift with words, coupled with his extraordinarily tenacious and passionate unrequited love for Roxane, provides a foundation for a performer to demonstrate his wealth of talents, and as director Andrew Upton puts it, “Richard’s wit, his erudition, his depth, his classical nous and – as he showed in Waiting For Godot last year – his capacity for clowning. They’re all on show here.”

Upton’s production for the 896-seat Sydney Theatre is ambitious in scale, but the show depends heavily on the efficacy of its singular, central character. Cyrano remains in focus for the entire duration, even in his brief moments off stage. That omnipresence requires of the actor a magnetism that captures our imagination, empathy and admiration, and Roxburgh’s powerful capacities as a star of the stage are brilliantly showcased here. His telling of the classic tale has an intellectual and emotional resonance that sheds new light on an old story, restoring a jaded love story back to the swooning masterpiece that befits its canonical status. Perfectly cast as the romantic figure with a rough exterior, Roxburgh is a leading man whose appeal lies with his talent, and whose allure is about ability rather than physicality. He is easily convincing as an ugly man, not because we ever think of him that way, but because his looks were never relevant to his acclaim. Roxburgh can play Cyrano, or the handsomest man in the world, and we would not question his validity.

The production’s comedy takes on many shades, from the very silly to the very dark, from the cerebral to the deeply ironic. Roxburgh’s versatility and sensitivity to the plot’s transfigurations guide us through an engrossing journey that retains a sense of humour even through pits of war and death. Upton’s adaptation and direction give Cyrano de Bergerac a radical update that reflects modern sensibilities. It insists that romance is still alive, but our relationship with it has evolved. The narrative is the same, but in order that the play’s original intentions may be uncovered, the story is told differently. Indeed, the show is overwhelmingly romantic. We love Cyrano, Roxane, and their tortured tale of mistaken identities, unrequited and lost love, but even more, we love Cyrano’s words. They cut through space and speak to our hearts, and we are moved the same way Roxane is moved. She attributes the letters and poetry to the vacuous Christian, but how we channel those wondrous evocations become entirely personal, and this is where connection happens. Upton does not shy from the grand sentimentality of the piece, but his work never feels schmaltzy. Great care is taken to steer emotions away from the cheap and inauthentic, and what we witness, although highly theatrical and dramatically intense, has a believability that associates closely with our personal experiences.

Playing Roxane is Eryn Jean Norvill, who injects an intelligent dignity to a part that can easily be interpreted dull and ornamental. Much is made of Roxane’s beauty and her many suitors, but her search for love is portrayed with an insistence for an intellectual equal. Norvill’s Roxane knows what she wants, and is determined to acquire it. Her work is quiet but solid, with a considered emphasis on the character’s earnest qualities. Her penultimate scene however, takes an unconvincing turn when she discovers her lover’s true identity much too suddenly. The scene works well in its pace and drama, but Roxane’s psychological transitions are quite implausible. Another character who goes through substantial transformations is the Comte de Guiche, performed with excellent aplomb by Josh McConville. The laughter he creates out of de Guiche’s vanity and haughty demeanour is a real joy, and his comic chemistry with members of cast is consistently impressive. McConville’s work in the final act is also remarkable, perhaps surprisingly so. After endearing us with consecutive scenes of flippancy, he returns a changed man at the end with a new gravity, quickly changing our attitude towards the Comte.

Alice Babidge’s set design provides levels and spaces within the very generous proscenium stage for Upton and his cast to tell a colourful and exciting story, but the creation of a first level catwalk around the perimeter is not visually resolved. The nondescript and generic dark grey areas are probably meant to disappear from sight but they are often jarring contrasts with Babidge’s own period costumes and set pieces on the lower level. It must be noted though, that costume design is beautifully and flamboyantly executed, with imaginative use of textures including leather, suede, velvet, brocade, feathers and lace, to create visions that are luxurious and vibrant. Also wonderful is Lauren A. Proietti’s wigs, worn by virtually all of the sixteen-strong cast. Her work is detailed, balanced and full of flair, giving an excellent polish to the presentation of each personality.

Classics are exhumed and rehashed more than often in Australia, but not always for good reason. They constitute a large portion of our main stage seasons, which in turn consigns new scripts to much smaller audiences, or never to be produced at all. New writers can tell new stories, and also old ones, but Andrew Upton proves with Cyrano de Bergerac that true masterpieces are rarely surpassed. Rostand’s play about broken hearts comes from a simple conceit, yet its access to our emotions is unequivocal. Many romances have traversed creative landscapes over the years, but Cyrano is uniquely moving. We all understand the feeling of inadequacy, and we have all experienced despondency. Many artists have attempted to capture those aspects of humanity, but it is the big nose that expresses things best.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Cyrano de Bergerac 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Cyrano de Bergerac 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Cyrano de Bergerac 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Cyrano de Bergerac 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Cyrano de Bergerac 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Cyrano de Bergerac 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Cyrano de Bergerac 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Cyrano de Bergerac 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Cyrano de Bergerac 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Cyrano de Bergerac 2014 Sydney Theatre Company

Review: The Way Things Work (Rock Surfers Theatre Company)

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rocksurfersVenue: Bondi Pavilion Theatre (Bondi NSW), Nov 5 – 29, 2014
Playwright: Aidan Fennessy
Director: Leland Kean
Actors: Ashley Lyons, Nicholas Papademetriou
Image by Zakarij Kaczmarek

Theatre review
Aidan Fennessy’s The Way Things Work is about betrayal, corruption and greed. It is also about maleness, focusing on its ambitious manifestations that can often be dishonourable and undignified. The six men in Fennessy’s play are deeply flawed, and their stories reveal them for the low lives that people are capable of becoming. Constructed of three acts, each with a different pair of characters in almost entirely separate scenarios, the script is a dynamic one, with carefully plotted points of tension, drama and danger. The narratives in The Way Things Work are thoughtful expressions that reflect its author’s social concerns. It might not be easy to relate to the contexts Fennessy presents, but his acute observations of the human condition allows us to connect with the material at hand.

Direction of the three long scenes by Leland Kean is challenged by the casting of only two actors, Ashley Lyons and Nicholas Papademetriou, who each take on three parts. Kean manages to create enough differentiation between each segment to keep us engaged, but the cast is not always a perfect fit for every set of characters they tackle, resulting in a show that is unevenly realised. Nevertheless, the production’s use of space is accomplished, and the powerful physicality of both players is used effectively to create lively action from the written pages. Both Lyons and Papademetriou have affable presences that endear us to their time on stage, even though what they put on display is fairly alienating. They are particularly compelling as a couple of Greek-Australian brothers in the second act, with charming idiosyncrasies and a brilliant chemistry that delivers some breathtaking scenes of confrontation and savagery.

Kean’s stage design is a strong feature that provides a confident backdrop, with an appealing aesthetic that relates to some of the themes and concepts, but the three pieces of furniture used to create spacial configurations are very pale by comparison. Also unsuccessful is lighting design that seems to lay dormant during each act, and atmosphere becomes lacklustre without sufficient flourishes in illumination to accompany tonal shifts in the story. The space is persistently dimly lit, which can detract from energy levels in plot and performance. The production’s inadequacy on this level is surprising and confounding.

Our sons’ lives are shaped by families, schools, and communities. How they grow up relies on the environment in which they live, and the men that they become is a consequence of the societies we construct. It is tempting to view adults as self-made individuals responsible for all their own choices, but our personal circumstances cannot be divorced from the people who surround us. Men are not all violent and selfish, as the play might suggest, but there is certainly good reason to examine the reasons behind how we behave, if only to gain control of elements that will improve civilisations for the betterment of humankind as a whole. The Way Things Work talks a lot about power, and our system of government is implicit in its discussions. The media portrays many of our leaders as vile and despicable, but we need to take a closer look at what it is that bestows upon them that privilege and sovereignty.

www.rocksurfers.org

Review: Switzerland (Sydney Theatre Company)

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Venue: Sydney Opera House (Sydney NSW), Nov 3 – Dec 20, 2014
Playwright: Joanna Murray–Smith
Director: Sarah Goodes
Cast: Eamon Farren, Sarah Peirse
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review (originally published at Auditorium Magazine)
The term masterpiece is used to describe a work of outstanding creativity, skill and workmanship. Although it is far too early to declare that Switzerland is Joanna Murray-Smith’s most celebrated work, there is no doubt that the playwright has founded something extraordinary with this fictional account of American author Patricia Highsmith’s very last days. Along with Sarah Peirse’s phenomenal performance as Highsmith, this is a production that will be remembered as one of the grandest achievements from two of contemporary theatre’s geniuses.

Highsmith died in Switzerland in 1995, but the story takes place in 2001. In her austere living room, she receives a guest Edward Ridgeway, who has arrived from New York as a representative from her publisher, despatched to obtain Highsmith’s signature on a contract for a new instalment to her famed Ripley series of novels. The young Ridgeway is bright and aspirational, but timid in the presence of the great writer, who has no qualms about berating and offending the rookie at every opportunity. Ridgeway presents himself as a devotee of Highsmith’s oeuvre, and uses all his might to complete the task at hand. The subject of his imploring however, is difficult and mean, and she proceeds to turn his visit into a living hell. Like Highsmith’s books of suspense in the crime fiction genre, Switzerland too is intriguing and seductive, with an unmistakeable Hitchcockian sensibility to its plot and pace. The breathtaking work is a remarkably gripping experience not commonly found in live performances that tend to appeal to emotions more than they do our very visceral responses and indeed, nerves.

It is always tempting to think of writings about writers to be at least partially autobiographical, and Murray-Smith does seem to be extremely personal and revelatory about that creative process in the palpable intimacy witnessed here. Highsmith was more interested in the “why” of murder, than the “how” of it, and this play thoroughly explores human behaviour and psychology, providing a window through which we discover the manifold logic behind the way we tick, especially in our dark moments. The characters thrive in their morbidity; conversations rarely veer from death and destruction, but the play is not deadly serious. It is often piercingly funny, particularly in the way Highsmith’s eccentricities and nastier qualities are accentuated. More than entertaining, Murray-Smith’s comedy helps with her macabre narratives, making them more convincing and threatening. It is the way light and dark vacillate that makes us lose ourselves, and fall headfirst into this indulgently baroque world of deception and narcissism.

Sarah Goodes’ direction is tense, taut and terrific. The deeply complex text is brought to life with crystal clarity in its narrative and characterisations, yet the astonishing multilayeredness of its themes is retained. It is the kind of play that seems to touch on everything, even though its story is ostensibly about something simpler. The context of a hermitic novelist is far removed from many of our own lives, but at no point does Goodes allow us to feel estranged from its themes and ideas. The script’s ambitious structure switches mode constantly within its three single-scene acts, taking cue from Highsmith’s unpredictable and capricious temperament. The direction’s acceding variances in tone and atmosphere are sensitively formed, and the results are edge-of-the-seat exhilarating.

In Switzerland, leading lady Peirse is perfection incarnate. She is at once Maria Callas, Greta Garbo and Bette Davis, bringing to the production a charisma that outweighs the Sydney Opera House, and a storytelling ability that seizes and manipulates our imagination as though reducing us to children hypnotised by a lullaby. Her Highsmith is obnoxious, contemptible, almost evil, yet we are drawn to her helplessly, desperate for her every utterance and gesture. There is a mysterious skill involved in the way Peirse makes each moment of her performance seem majestic, while letting us see textures of subtlety and importantly, authenticity. A real character exists on that stage, but the enormity of the actor’s power is its awe-inspiring double. Many excellent actors grace the stages in the lucky city of Sydney, but it is the splendour on this occasion that causes one to bemoan the ephemerality of the theatrical form.

The role of Ridgeway is equally substantial. The character is half of the story and script, even though he is necessarily subservient. Eamon Farren is a strong actor who tackles the role thoughtfully, and with evident conviction, but he is often eclipsed by Peirse. There is an unfortunate imbalance arising from the difference in levels of experience that is almost inevitable. Pitting an 80 year-old character against a twenty-something, and casting actors with over twenty years’ discrepancy in their respective craft maturation in a two-hander, proves to be more than a little precarious. Our attention resists being split 50/50, and Farren is outclassed and relegated to unofficial supporting actor. Nonetheless, the actor’s accomplishments in creating an interesting personality is significant and so is his contribution to the effectiveness of the plot. The chemistry of the pair is also noteworthy, with an impressive fluency to their dialogic rhythms.

All the action takes place in the living room. Michael Scott-Mitchell based his set design on Highsmith’s final home, suitably bringing to focus the Brutalist environs in which she dwelt. Taking a sharply angled perspective of the house, the stage is shaped like a dagger, reflecting Highsmith’s love of weaponry, and the harshness she had embraced into all aspects of life. Scott-Mitchell’s creation is masculine and perversely beautiful, with a large working fireplace in the centre that provides warmth to the visual aesthetic, but also a menacing sense of impending doom. Lighting is subdued but is central to mood changes and assists in illustrating character transformations. Nick Schlieper’s work is unassuming, but very elegant. Steve Francis’ memorable music compositions between scenes are cinematic and evocative, bringing to mind Hitchcock collaborator Bernard Herrmann’s more noir opus.

In Switzerland, Highsmith humorously claims to be neutral, never judging the actions of her characters, content to sit back and observe things unfolding, seemingly on their own accord. She washes her hands of all their sins and misdeeds, almost extricating herself from the part she plays as their sole architect. The show however, bears the fingerprints of all its authors and they should be immensely proud of their artistic marvel. Tom Ripley lives on as a literary landmark, and Joanna Murray-Smith’s play will likely go on to be a considerable part of Australian theatre legacy.
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Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company
Switzerland 2014 Sydney Theatre Company

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Review: Daylight Saving (Darlinghurst Theatre Company)

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darlotheatreVenue: Eternity Playhouse (Darlinghurst NSW), Oct 31 – Nov 30, 2014
Playwright: Nick Enright
Director: Adam Cook
Cast: Helen Dallimore, Belinda Giblin, Rachel Gordon, Ian Stenlake, Christopher Stollery, Jacob Warner
Image by Helen White

Theatre review
Nick Enright’s Daylight Saving was written at the dawn of the 1990s. Director Adam Cook’s straightforward staging in 2014 preserves its original sensibilities, but time has not moved on far enough for the play to feel like a classic. Instead, the production appears outdated despite its very polished execution on all fronts. Enright’s story about the farcical turmoil of well-to-do north shore Sydneysiders no longer bears an edge to rival the more relevant comedies of today, and its “first world problems” context can be quite grating when presented without sufficient mockery.

It is evident that Cook has an excellent understanding of the text and the way dynamics are ingrained into the dialogue. His work feels faithful to the author and to the milieu being referenced, and if produced in ten or so years, the play might come across more charming and nostalgic. Cook’s flair with actors gives the show a confidence that allows it to gleam with impressive professionalism, and the cast is an endearing one, even if the characters they play tend to be annoyingly lightweight. Leads Rachel Gordon and Christopher Stollery provide the narrative with a sturdy anchor, and a surprising authenticity, but they are also less colourful than supporting players, resulting in a loss of emotional connection with the audience.

Jacob Warner lights up the space with his entrance late in the piece as Jason Strutt, a spoilt and insolent tennis star. The part is small, but the actor leaves a lasting impression with enthusiastic and risky comedic choices. Also quirky is Helen Dallimore’s madcap rendition of the desperate girl next door Stephanie, who exists mainly to make the protagonists look good, but Dallimore’s gleeful performance is a fiercely delightful one. Belinda Giblin’s sharp humour as Bunty sees her coming on and off stage like a mini hurricane, and Ian Stenlake’s compelling mix of casanova and goofball is oddly alluring.

Daylight Saving is a story about small things that disrupt very comfortable lives. Its frivolity will certainly appeal to some, but its lightness would also prove unbearable to others. Although Enright’s comedy is not quite universal, the conviction of performances on this occasion is magnetic, and audiences will engage and respond, if only in appreciation for the vibrant energy that fills the theatre.

www.darlinghursttheatre.com

Review: V.D. (Copanirvana Theatre Co / Sydney Independent Theatre Company)

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sitco2Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Oct 28 – Nov 15, 2014
Playwright: Pete Malicki
Director: Lisa Eismen
Cast: Eliza St John
Image by Katy Green Loughrey

Theatre review
This is a story about a woman in love only with two things; herself and alcohol. Pete Malicki’s script is crafted with some skill. His jokes are incessant, and timed with a natural flair. His characters are abused and ridiculed, and no one is presented in a positive light. There is very little beauty and inspiration in the play, but it has a humour that will appeal to many. It is a harsh truth that Australians find alcohol funny. We laugh at people making destructive decisions and falling over due to drunkenness, and V.D. capitalises on that unfortunate part of our culture. It also takes advantage of the fact that making women desperate and dateless gets laughs easily. Sophie Webb is hopeless, almost idiotic, but she is not unrealistic, and of course, our artistic landscape must make room for all kinds of characters no matter how undesirable.

The script is skilfully executed by director Lisa Eismen and actor Eliza St John. Presentation of the comedy is wide ranging, from the very broad to the very subtle. Character development is sometimes uncomfortable in the plot, but the women manage to create a narrative that is often believable, although the show’s ending is quite bewildering. St John’s performance is masterful. She is wild, intuitive and considered, with a conviction that can turn water into wine. Her work is completely absorbing, and she manages to endear herself to her captive crowd, like using sleight of hand techniques to mask the hideous uselessness of the woman she portrays.

The world can be an ugly place, and it is necessary to know its flaws. The theatre is not reserved for snowdrops and daffodils, and artists must not be censored, but audiences look for morals in stories, and maybe even find meaning in listening to what is being said. What V.D. articulates is sometimes true, but also very sad indeed. Life is worth living because of hope, and we need to acknowledge the darkness that we live with, but we must always recognise it as such.

www.sitco.net.au

Review: November Spawned A Monster (Fly-On-The-Wall Theatre / Sydney Independent Theatre Company)

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sitco1Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Oct 28 – Nov 15, 2014
Playwright: Alex Broun
Director: Robert Chuter
Cast: James Wright
Image by Katy Green Loughrey

Theatre review
Morrissey’s music courses through the veins of his fanatic devotees, and William is a young Melbournite who has the rock star’s records underscoring key events of his life. We meet him at a time of mourning, having recently encountered a deep personal loss. The struggle for clarity, direction and a new lease on life is a familiar experience, and Alex Broun’s script is an honest representation of that shared phenomenon. Melancholia is created beautifully in a plot that takes us from everyday banality to extraordinary circumstances, with gentle humour and a generous slew of Morrissey songs that provide poignant irony, and a remarkable coolness.

Also very cool, is Benjamin Brockman’s lighting design for the production, which gives a sense of differentiation between scenes so that we perceive a variety of moods as the leading man goes through scenes of transformation and evolution. Brockman’s work is intelligent and sophisticated, giving the show a visceral sensuality that connects with Morrissey’s omnipresence. Robert Chuter’s direction of the one-man show cleverly finds every opportunity to manufacture shifts in tone, preventing the production from ever being monotonous in spite of its monologue format. Chuter finds nuance in William’s journey and depicts the human condition at a time of sorrow with great sensitivity.

In the role of William is James Wright, who has the challenging task of memorising an eighty-minute play entirely on his own, along with singing a big selection of the idol’s highly idiosyncratic greatest hits at regular intervals. Wright is an enthusiastic performer who has the ability to be engaging, but his confidence levels are inconsistent, and on this stage, there is simply nowhere to hide when the actor’s consciousness is fractured, however briefly. Notwithstanding its energetic rhythm, November Spawned A Monster is chiefly about pain, which Wright does not sufficiently embody. It is almost a metaphysical quality that can be perceived when a person lives with a broken heart, and on the stage, that quality can be forcefully seductive, but that brand of charisma which we can see in Morrissey, is sadly absent in this show.

“Youth is wasted on the young”, said George Bernard Shaw, but William’s story is a reminder that feeling stranded in one’s youth is important for achieving an understanding of grief, and therefore, gaining an appreciation of all that is significant in life. It is not all a bed of roses, but that’s how people grow up.

www.sitco.net.au

Review: Blue/Orange (Ensemble Theatre)

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ensembletheatreVenue: 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

Review: Five Women Wearing The Same Dress (Act IV Theatre Co)

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activtheatreVenue: TAP Gallery (Darlinghurst NSW), Oct 28 – Nov 2, 2014
Playwright: Alan Ball
Director: Deborah Jones
Cast: Nadim Accari, Kaitlin DeLacy, Chloe McKenzie, Eleanor Ryan, Melinda Ryan, Wendy Winkler
Image by Tim Levy

Theatre review
Weddings are traditional affairs that expose the roles that we play for others in daily life, and our obligations as friends and family members. Participation in weddings often involves some level of reluctance, and most would probably prefer to be some place else doing something less painful. Alan Ball’s fabulous script is about the interactions between five bridesmaids after a wedding ceremony. The women have distinct personalities, with nothing in common, except for the hideous purple dress forced onto their bodies, and an unconcealed dislike for the bride. The play’s context positions the women in relation to the concept of marriage, and we observe how the supposed universal ideal of matrimony is no longer relevant to modern lives. Ball’s fascinating characters reveal their individual idiosyncrasies and it becomes clear that fulfilment and happiness might have little or nothing at all to do with marriage.

Ball’s writing is entertaining, whimsical and punchy. The charming language of the American South is showcased beautifully, and the women’s lives are vividly imagined, with a familiarity that allows us to find points of association. Their worlds seem real, because Ball exposes their imperfections in a way that demonstrates a humanity that we can relate to. Direction of the work is provided by Deborah Jones who brings a clarity to narratives and motivations. She keeps energy levels high, but there is a stasis to the atmosphere that prevents the show from providing a more dynamic experience. The comedy is written well, but it is not a uniformly strong cast, so the results of delivery are mixed and chemistry is not always fine. It must be noted that although some performances are less effective, every actor is clearly full of conviction and focus, and the stage is always an engaging one.

Eleanor Ryan is outstanding in the role of Mindy, a jovial lesbian who exemplifies the liberated individual in a world overrun by peer pressure and broken promises. Ryan’s comic timing is a highlight of the production and her creation is the most endearing of the group. Her style is much more flamboyant than her colleagues, but she retains a grounding authenticity that keeps her character believable and interesting. The complex role of Georgeanne is played by Wendy Winkler, who captivates with a clever blend of tragedy and irony. Her depiction of strength and optimism in the role’s banal existence is delightfully inspiring.

This is a play about women from a man’s perspective, and even though it is debatable if the writer knows the gender well, he certainly does understand the human condition. The anxieties it expresses and the desires it explores are absolutely real for many of us. Five Women Wearing The Same Dress often feels like light entertainment, but what it leaves behind is altogether more deep and meaningful. We think about the choices that present themselves, and the ones that seem elusive. The decisions that we make shape the life that we live, but so do the circumstances that seem to be beyond control. When a wedding invitation arrives, one can only choose to accept or decline, but to respond with honesty and truth is infinitely more perplexing.

www.activtheatreco.com

Review: Henry V (Bell Shakespeare)

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bellshakespeareVenue: Sydney Opera House (Sydney NSW), Oct 21 – Nov 15, 2014
Playwright: William Shakespeare
Director: Damien Ryan
Cast: Michael Sheasby, Matthew Backer, Drew Livingston, Damien Strouthos, Gabriel Fancourt, Eloise Winestock, Danielle King, Darcy Brown, Keith Agius, Ildiko Susany
Images by Michele Mossop

Theatre review
As the years pass, we become increasingly accustom to war being a fact of life. Wartime is no longer a set of specific and exceptional circumstances, especially with the proliferation of mass media and the normalisation of conflict as a topic of daily interest. Shakespeare’s Henry V includes the ambiguities and tensions between tragedy and heroism, but four centuries on, we seem no longer able to tell a story like this without letting casualties take centre stage.

Damien Ryan’s vision certainly reflects contemporary attitudes on the essential destructiveness of war. The injured and the dead are not obliterated from our sight, but are left critically present on stage to abate any hint of glory that might surface. The use of symbols and the visual lavishness of Ryan’s work is fiercely thoughtful, almost omnipresent. Space is explored to its creative limits, with the astonishingly dynamic use of bodies, sets and props to convey emotions and concepts. Ryan’s brand of theatre is captivating and exhilarating, but also undeniably sensitive and intelligent. His Henry V is complex but accessible, innovative but unpretentious. It aims to be a theatre for all, catering to aficionados, students and everyone else, encompassing every age and background. Shakespeare’s language is challenging for many, and the director works thoroughly to bring elucidation, although detractors are unlikely to have a change of heart with this text, which is probably one of Shakespeare’s more obscure pieces.

The production is visually beautiful, with accomplished and adventurous work from designers on all fronts. Anna Gardiner’s intricate set gives the stage an intimacy and provides performers with extensive possibilities for inventiveness. Gardiner’s costumes are not extravagant but accurately and astutely conceived, consistently effective in each character transformation and evolution. Sian James-Holland’s lighting design is one of the show’s main features. Her work is ambitious and powerful, at times conveying the plot more completely than other more tangible elements can manage. Also outstanding are music and sound designer Steve Francis’ achievements in his very specific control over atmospherics, and vocal composer Drew Livingston’s many charming and surprising songs accompanying the script.

Clearly, the performances are not the only stars of the show, but this is an undeniably excellent ensemble of actors. The chemistry they have found with each other, and in every scene, is exemplary. There is an athleticism to their creation, assisted by movement director Scott Witt, that is often breathtaking and marvelous to behold. The constant variation in tone and mood that they manufacture gives the production an extraordinarily textured feel. Keith Agius plays the more mature roles and is memorable for the depth of meaning he is able to bring to his lines. It is the gravity and an intensity that he puts into speeches that sets him apart. Matthew Backer shines with a distinct sense of humour that follows his assured presence, and his singing voice is quite sublime. The most vibrant actor will always leave an impression, and on this occasion, it is Damien Strouthos who wins us over with his agile, flamboyant and impossibly energetic approach.

It is clear that Shakespeare is revered internationally, but the universality of his writing is arguable. As societies become more aware of ethnic, gender and other differences in experience and background, it becomes less likely that any artist can claim to be relevant to everyone, but theatre is in a unique position of sheer proximity where it has the potential to move and touch, in a visceral manner. Shakespeare’s words might not always make sense, but what it gives birth to, is often blisteringly remarkable.

www.bellshakespeare.com.au

Review: Kryptonite (Sydney Theatre Company)

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sydneytheatrecoVenue: Wharf 1 Sydney Theatre Company (Walsh Bay NSW), Sep 11 – Oct 18, 2014
Playwright: Sue Smith
Director: Geordie Brookman
Cast: Ursula Mills, Tim Walter
Image by Lisa Tomasetti

Theatre review
Through an international love story, Sue Smith’s Kryptonite examines the relationship between the personal realm and our wider circumstances. When Lian first met Dylan at an Australian University in pre-Tiananmen 1989, she was a new immigrant from China and Dylan had looked every bit the quintessential middle class Australian preoccupied with surfing and student protests. Over the years, Lian returns to Dylan for a series of brief but dramatic encounters, and by 2014, they are almost entirely different people, and we question if the countries from which they emerge, have evolved correspondingly, into virtually unrecognisable entities.

Freedom, idealism and innocence are put through the wringer in Smith’s play, in which we witness the ravages of time on the beauty of youth. Growing old is a tragedy, but not because of the inevitable deterioration of flesh. It is what happens to the heart and soul as time wears on, not just for each person, but also for the worlds in which we dwell. We cannot travel back in time, and our nations will never revert to a purer state. Indeed, the past is painted as though through rose-coloured glasses, but it is a persuasive picture that Smith creates. In Kryptonite, the loss of our innocence is certain, and sad. Smith’s work is emotional and powerful, with a perspective of our recent histories that feels accurate and is deeply perceptive.

The character Lian is particularly well-written, with an authenticity in speech and sense of humour that is quite outstanding. Performed by the brilliantly astute Ursula Mills, the role becomes thoroughly familiar, even though realistic Chinese women are rarely seen on our stages. She is surprisingly funny, and her motivations in each sequence are concise, keeping us engaged with her storytelling in a plot that can be a little convoluted at times. Mills is required to speak and sing in Chinese languages over the course of the show, but proficiency is lacking although her conviction remains strong. There is an oversimplification in some of Lian’s darker moments, but the actor never fails to bring a delicious fire to the drama when required. Also captivating is Tim Walter who is yin to Mills’ yang. Chemistry between the two are not quite exceptional, but they find a harmonious balance that brings great elucidation to the play’s themes and concepts. Walter’s work is thoughtful and confident, but the lightness in his presence, while delightful for the younger Dylan, is a hindrance in several of his graver moments. His depiction of a jaded politician in his late forties is not entirely convincing, but as a young man confused and enchanted by the object of his affections, Walter is charmingly captivating.

Geordie Brookman’s direction retains the challenging nature of the plot’s non-chronological timeline, but provides a good sense of clarity to the narrative. He succeeds in manufacturing a believable romance out of a complex framework of dramatic shifts in time and spaces, but some of the script’s political details are subsumed by his emphasis on pace and rhythms. The show is an enjoyable one. Its scenes are dynamic and unpredictable, always introducing fresh elements to ensure a gripping experience. Design aspects are not greatly ambitious, but they help tell the story with efficiency and elegance.

Kryptonite talks about how we have changed as nations of people, but its views of China are more exacting than how it sees its own country. The Australian play shows the evolution of a foreign land through its distinct junctures of transformation, but it is less brutal with its self-reflection. Yet again, we find meaning through the definition of an other, but this time, we move focus from our perverse European obsession to a place closer to home. China is a significant trading partner, with an astronomical rise in recent times that sees its influence spread across the world, not only in monetary terms, but also cultural and social. The first officially recorded Chinese migrant arrived in 1818 and today, Australians with Asian heritage number at 2.4 million. While we still seem to avoid it like a comic hero avoids a mythical adversary, the importance of finding a way to articulate that experience and relationship is impossible to overstate.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au