Review: Are We Awake (Old Fitz Theatre)

Venue: Old Fitzroy Theatre (Woolloomooloo NSW), Feb 28 – Mar 11, 2017
Playwright: Charles O’Grady
Director: Sean Hawkins
Cast: Aleks Mikić, Daniel Monks

Theatre review
We think that an ideal romance is made of two perfect halves, where no one entity is more reliant on the relationship than the other. In Charles O’Grady’s Are We Awake, Hypnos lives with an increasingly severe disability, and while his lover Endymion has no problems taking on the role of carer, things come to a head when he is offered a job in a different city. The story is concerned with the nature of the unions that we forge, exploring what it means to be in love, when a person is unable to be self-sufficient. There is great sensitivity in O’Grady’s writing, with remarkable depth in his imagining of characters for this sentimental, and very angsty, two-hander.

Sean Hawkins does excellent work directing the piece, giving beautiful variation to texture and tension for this otherwise straightforward single-setting play. He overcomes the challenge of the writing’s big, rambling speeches by keeping delivery of dialogue pacy, but offers balance with charming sequences of momentary silences. In the role of Hypnos is Daniel Monks, impressive in his precise articulation of a very wide range of emotion, for a sensational performance that feels wholly convincing. Equally engaging is Aleks Mikić, whose creation moves us with an admirable psychological accuracy in his depiction of Endymion’s internal struggles. The couple’s fabulous chemistry is the strongest feature of the show, and we are hopelessly captivated.

Few of us will find happily ever after with that one true love, but we all defy the fairy tales of childhood, every day of our lives. Even with the tremendous challenges that Hypnos has to bear, he can only look ahead and keep moving. We are taught that marriage is the most necessary of loves, but the truth is that good people will always have someone to lean on, no matter how we categorise our human connections. Some of us may need more help than others, but all our hearts have the capacity to be as big as our companions require. Even though it will not look the way we had dreamed it, love exists and it is all around.

www.oldfitztheatre.com

Review: Chimerica (Sydney Theatre Company)

Venue: Roslyn Packer Theatre at Walsh Bay (Sydney NSW), Feb 28 – Apr 1, 2017
Playwright: Lucy Kirkwood
Director: Kip Williams
Cast: Matthew Backer, Gabrielle Chan, Jason Chong, Tony Cogin, Geraldine Hakewill, Brent Hill, Rebecca Massey, Monica Sayers, Mark Leonard Winter, Anthony Brandon Wong, Charles Wu, Jenny Wu
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
Massacres, no matter how catastrophic, can get forgotten. Unlike the 9/11 attacks that we memorialise everyday, fuelled partially by economic imperatives of the USA, incidents such as the 1989 Tiananmen Square protests have faded away with time, and in this particular case, with rigorous effort on the part of Chinese officials.

The arresting image of a man standing in front of battle tanks however, still packs a punch, and 27 years after the event, it remains in circulation as one of the most influential and famous photographs ever taken. The enigma of Tank Man leaves many questions unanswered. It is an irrefutable document of an historical moment, but nothing of that moment (or the moments leading up to, and thereafter) has ever been explained.

Playwright Lucy Kirkwood’s imagination goes wild in Chimerica. It is 2012, and we meet a fictive photographer, Joe, who had famously captured the shocking moment at Tiananmen Square. He is now on a tenacious search for Tank Man, determined to uncover the truth, and through his escapades, we explore China as it stands today, or at least, are offered a Western conception of China’s current state of affairs. It is predictably precarious, for an American writer to offer critical assessment of the Chinese experience, but Kirkwood brings balance to her piece by portraying American institutions with a comparable level of disparagement; they are as bad as each other, perhaps.

The narrative of Chimerica is thoroughly enjoyable, a thriller that manages to grip right from the start, and that delivers a formidable jaw-dropper at its end. In this production however, details and personalities in the fairly complex story can become confusing. Direction by Kip Williams establishes a tautness in pace and atmosphere that makes for enthralling viewing, aided by Nick Schlieper’s very clever and diligent lighting design, but uneven acting for the main roles prevents the show from reaching its greatest potential.

Mark Leonard Winter is convincing as Joe the photographic journalist, but the emotional dimensions to his depictions often feel too vague and distant. The other lead character Zhang Lin is played by Jason Chong, who delivers several captivating scenes of poignancy, but the actor struggles to overcome the role’s quality of mystery, and he too is unable to help the audience connect at a more satisfying depth. Scene-stealer Charles Wu sparkles the brightest in two smaller parts. As Benny, he is refreshing, lively and charming, and as young Zhang, Wu is authentic and engaging. Also notable are the twenty performers who make up the ensemble, all impressive with their physical discipline, all in command of their excellent, and crucial, collective presence.

The song Long De Chuan Ren (Descendants of the Dragon) is a recurring sonic motif, introduced by sound designer The Sweats with wonderful inventiveness and cultural sensitivity, to orchestrate a representation of Chinese culture and its people, throughout the play. The song likens China to a dragon, a creature to be feared and revered, and it is true that iron fists have always ruled the nation, throughout different centuries, dynasties and governments, but the country is no stranger to revolutions. Whether or not we think of our governing mechanisms as democratic, systems of oppression will always attempt to ambush and exploit how we live, and it is up to the masses to find a way to resist, and to overturn the forces that wish to breach each and every one of our human rights.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Review: The Duke (Hoipolloi Theatre Ltd)

Venue: The Riverbank Palais (Adelaide SA), Mar 6 – 8, 2017
Playwright: Shôn Dale-Jones
Director: Shôn Dale-Jones
Cast: Shôn Dale-Jones

Theatre review
The Duke is entirely a one-man show, with Shôn Dale-Jones sitting at a desk, accompanied by two microphones providing variation to his voice (one with reverb, one dry), and a laptop on which he operates sound cues. Theatre is almost always a collaborative art form, but here, there are only the artist and his audience. It is a doggedly minimal approach for staging a play; all we have is a piece of writing, and the writer presenting it to us, without ever leaving his seat. A leftist aesthetic perhaps, which is probably the only appropriate style for a play that has the refugee crisis as its main propulsive force.

The play is about the tension between opposing sides of our conscience, clear and guilty. It explores the parallels between selling out as an artist, and our greed as nations vehemently protecting borders; all the twisted things we do for money. A further dimension of sentimentality is brought into the show, with a narrative concerning the author’s widowed mother and the replacement of a broken heirloom at all costs. Dale-Jones’ humour is poetic, sometimes charmingly wistful, and his ability to move us seamlessly from one reality to another, with only his words as a theatrical device, is quite magical. He proves to be a marvellously imaginative writer, with an engaging, although sometimes slightly caustic, presence on stage.

The Duke demonstrates that it is easy for us to know right from wrong, but in spite of our natural instincts to do good, we are often led down the garden path by fear and money. Instead of creating heated and condescending arguments that ask for greater compassion to those seeking asylum, Dale-Jones simply speaks to us with respect, understanding that our humanity is intact. It is political theatre, seeking to effect change, not only because half the box office takings go to the Save the Children’s Child Refugee Crisis, but it reminds us gently, of the things we should hold important in our lives. The show’s separate stories talk to us on different levels, and helps us consider the various spheres of our Western existence; the professional, the personal and the social, how we can find harmony in each, and how it requires us to dare to do good.

www.hoipolloi.org.uk

Review: Saul (Glyndebourne Festival Opera)

glyndebourneVenue: Festival Theatre (Adelaide SA), Mar 3 – 9, 2017
Music: George Frideric Handel
Libretto: Charles Jennens
Director: Barrie Kosky
Cast: Mary Bevan, Kanen Breen, Taryn Fiebig, Stuart Jackson, Christopher Lowrey, Christopher Purves, Adrian Strooper

Theatre review
Stories of narcissism are more relevant than ever. In our age of omnipresent cameras and selfie-fueled social media, we are made to look at our personal selves more intensely than ever before, with no belief system powerful enough to convince us of any detrimental effects that would come from this unnaturally high level of self-obsession. We are all kings and queens, in our own minds at least, always placing the preponderant I at the centre of our universes, rarely able to conceive of anything greater, beyond the immediate and the ego.

Saul loses his mind, when he thinks his kingship threatened by David, a younger, better version of himself, who had become the nation’s darling after slaying the giant Philistine Goliath. Seeing his subjects, and his children, becoming thus enamoured, is completely devastating to Saul, who proceeds to unravel, in a series of self-destructive manoeuvres that take him to his dramatic ruin. It is a highly moralistic tale, one that upholds a particular notion of purity, and that abominates vanity, but Saul‘s preachiness takes on new resonance in our advanced evolutionary state of self-interest, made even more pertinent by Barrie Kosky’s characteristically heretical direction.

The show (an English production) is lavish, lush and at times, scandalously lascivious. The approach can be seen as ironic; exposing a gay affair between David and the prince Jonathan, or having Saul suck on a witch’s nipple, then smothering himself in the bad woman’s milk. Costume and set designer Katrin Lea Tag, along with lighting doyen Joachim Klein provide thrilling imagery so decadent (we gasp when the curtains rise), that one is prevented from interpreting any of Handel’s religious instruction too literally. Instead, we luxuriate in the extravagance of it all, and let the morals be subjugated by the far more engaging, and sonorous beauty of the production’s remarkable artistry.

The enthralling Christopher Purves is a commanding Saul, his voice and charisma in constant competition for our affections. Mary Bevan and Taryn Fiebig are both impressive sopranos, who bring surprising authenticity and tension to their characterisations. Most memorable is perhaps the company of fifty from the State Opera Chorus, who overcome acoustic limitations of the auditorium, for a collective presence full of power and remarkable conviction.

There are sections in the show that are purposefully minimal in approach, but those require a standard of performance that is not always delivered by the cast. Although we alternate between engrossment and disinterestedness over its duration, Kosky’s Saul is unforgettable. The fierce sense of adventure in every one of its bold, inventive and playful expressions, demonstrates the brilliance that can come out of creative genius when met with corresponding resources. We have the talent and money here, but how we can make them converge remains an Australian predicament, on an operatic scale.

www.glyndebourne.com

Review: Richard III (Schaubühne Berlin)

schaubuhneVenue: Her Majesty’s Theatre (Adelaide SA), Mar 3 – 9, 2017
Playwright: William Shakespeare (adaptation in German, by Marius von Mayenburg)
Director: Thomas Ostermeier
Cast: Thomas Bading, Robert Beyer, Lars Eidinger, Christoph Gawenda, Moritz Gottwald, Jenny König, Laurenz Laufenberg, Eva Meckbach, Bernardo Arias Porras, Sebastian Schwarz, Thomas Witte
Image by Arno Declair

Theatre review
In Thomas Ostermeier’s Richard III, the spirit of anarchy reigns supreme. One can easily think of Richard as a nihilistic figure, a rebel without a cause perhaps, in a constant state of discontentment. Enslaved by his atypical physicality, he has an insatiable need to antagonise and annihilate, but to what end, we can only speculate. It makes perfect sense then, that Ostermeier’s production feels like punk, and his Richard, a rock god that is all flamboyant angst and tantalising danger. The show is spectacular, thrillingly visceral, and profoundly inventive, challenging our senses to discern new from old, making us wonder what it means to have seen it all before, and why it is that we must always have theatre that exists on the cutting edge.

The production is designed to perfection, giving every action on stage an irresistible sense of drama, keeping us captivated without a hint of anything ever being too flashy or distracting, even though it operates stridently on an extraordinary level of sensory extravagance. Jan Pappelbaum’s set is versatile and purposive without requiring a single moment of laborious conversion. Understated contraptions facilitate an endless sense of movement, all achieved with the greatest of elegance and efficiency. Visually sumptuous, and incredibly cool, lights by Erich Schneider, along with Sébastien Dupouey’s video projections, provide the space with a dystopian air of foreboding, while imbuing a seductive glamour impossible to resist.

Leading man Lars Eidinger confronts us with a Richard that can only be described as blisteringly au courant, and dripping with sex. It is tempting to dismiss a star’s magnetism as somehow natural and an enigma, but Eidinger redefines the concept of an actor inhabiting a role, with this interpretation of Shakespeare’s notorious freak of nature. It is a phenomenal level of comfort and familiarity that is on display, with actor and character completely melding with each other. We feel his rigorous mastery but can only see a singular existence on the stage, with no whiff of contrivance, no sign of a man putting on an act. Eidinger is fantastically theatrical, but it never crosses our mind that he should only be pretending.

When the show comes to its inevitable tragic, and very gloomy end, we are forced into a shift in tone that must take place, in order that Richard’s unparalleled exuberance may be stripped away forever. Musicians Nils Ostendorf and Thomas Witte’s brilliant noises that had injected us with an almost orgiastic, bloody passion, are finally tamed, along with our mournful protagonist who must now cower to his fate. As he dies, we are left to lament the end of something unequivocally sensational. The last minutes may seem bitter in comparison, but there is probably no other authentic way that can conclude the story of our rambunctious king. Fortunately, as the poem goes, it is “not how did he die, but how did he live,” and even though there may be regret at his last breath, this Richard III leaves us only with unimaginable delight and breathtaking inspiration.

www.schaubuehne.de

Review: Political Children (ATYP)

innerwestyouthVenue: ATYP (Walsh Bay NSW), Mar 1 – 3, 2017
Playwright: Felicity Nicol
Director: Felicity Nicol
Cast: Sebastian Cutcherwirth, Emma Hooton, Elodie Jake, Lola Rose van Overdam, Theo Tunks
Image by Michael Snow

Theatre review
Felicity Nicol’s Political Children emerges from the Safe Schools debacle, that saw a national program designed to protect LGBTQI children, turn into a battle ground, on which members of government and the media were able to focus their hateful rhetoric for political gain. A pretense of public debate allowed prejudice and misinformation free rein, culminating in a state of hysteria that saw ignorance and idiocy triumph.

An opportunity to educate new generations on the true nature of human sexuality and gender expressions, was quickly shut down by forces of bigotry. Fearful of enlightenment and the consequential benefits to society, the disdainful have severely hindered what was to be the end of our worst prejudices. Not only are there people who want to live in lies, it seems that they are the ones who have the power to preserve a particular modus operandi that relies of the systematic subjugation, vilification and abuse of parts of our community.

It is a piece of verbatim theatre, of sorts. Composed of material from Australia’s vast media landscape, what we hear in Political Children are things people have said, previously documented on different platforms, now collated and presented on this stage. Nicol as both writer and director, is exacting and forceful. There is nothing ambiguous in what the play wishes to express.

Lights by Benjamin Brockman and music by Nate Edmondson are employed with a deft touch to guide us boldly through every unequivocal statement; technical design for the production is heavily relied upon not just to cue emotional responses, but also to help us with all the character and plot details we need to know. It is a very young cast of actors, teenagers full of gumption, ready to discover the wondrous magic of the art form, along with a deep exploration into the complex social aspects of sexual and gender diversity.

When it comes to pleasures of the flesh, there is nothing to fear but fear itself, yet our consciousness is filled with taboos and prohibitions, oppression and suppression, and a whole lot of guilt, in relation to the experience and conception of sex. Our practice of gender too, is informed by wholly arbitrary and harmful rules that wish to limit each person’s potential, all of which seek to control, and to persecute. Nobody stands to benefit from the persistence of this utter and cruel stupidity, not even its most fervent advocates.

www.atyp.com.au

Review: Mark Colvin’s Kidney (Belvoir St Theatre)

belvoirVenue: Belvoir St Theatre (Surry Hills NSW), Feb 25 – Apr 2, 2017
Playwright: Tommy Murphy
Director: David Berthold
Cast: Peter Carroll, Kit Esuruoso, John Howard, Sarah Peirse, Chris Stollery, Helen Thomson
Image by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
We want many ideas and themes running through our plays, so that they may be experienced with complexity and a sense of surprise. In Mark Colvin’s Kidney, by Tommy Murphy, we think about friendship, altruism, wealth, technology, and the Leveson “phone-hacking” inquiry, divergent concepts that the writer consolidates with the help of a real story.

It is a tricky undertaking, having to find the right balance so that our focus sticks with the plot’s main concern. The play wants to talk about the unusual affair of a broadcaster, Mark Colvin’s kidney transplant, but sets of circumstances in the donor’s life that take us to the main event, often seem equally or more interesting, perhaps due, admittedly, to the brevity at which they are dispensed. Protagonist Mary-Ellen Field is an extraordinary woman who has had a very full life, and we require more than just that one great deed of rescuing a sick man, to satisfy our desire to know and celebrate her.

Murphy’s representation of characters, Mary-Ellen and Mark, is warm, vibrant and suitably life-affirming. Actors Sarah Peirse and John Howard are both immensely affable, but their unpreparedness for opening night is apparent, and disappointing. The magic of the piece lies in the fascinating implausibility, of a friendship developing so quickly and deeply in cyberspace, with the actors assigned the unenviable task of making that relationship believable. Director David Berthold’s spatial manipulations are marvellously imagined, for his creative portrayal of dialogue that takes place only on mobile devices, but performances fail, ironically, to make convincing, events that actually did happen.

It is nonetheless, a feel-good uplifting tale that is at once hopeful and inspiring. Mary-Ellen’s determination to give up her kidney may not be entirely comprehensible, but we recognise the divine in her actions. Her name may not bear enough eminence to claim space in the title, but she is a modern day real-life hero to whom we should all aspire, if only we could come away with a greater understanding of what it is that makes her tick.

www.belvoir.com.au

Review: Away (Sydney Theatre Company)

stcVenue: Sydney Opera House (Sydney NSW), Feb 18 – Mar 25, 2017
Playwright: Michael Gow
Director: Matthew Lutton
Cast: Marco Chiappi, Julia Davis, Wadih Dona, Glenn Hazeldine, Natasha Herbert, Heather Mitchell, Liam Nunan, Naomi Rukavina
Image by Prudence Upton

Theatre review
It all happens in the summer of 1968. Martin Luther King, Jr. is assassinated in the USA, and the black power salute of the Mexico City Olympics stuns the world. Meanwhile in Australia, baby boomers come of age in a country of stability and abundance. Michael Gow’s Away is about life on this land, half a century ago. Three families, connected through high school, go through their private experiences of grief, at a time when all should have been peachy keen.

It is arguable whether their personal dramas are able to find relevance, two generations later, with today’s audiences. We exist in what seems like a completely different time, and even though we comprehend the human struggles and relationship pressures in Gow’s writing, their concerns seem far removed from our daily realities. There are allusions to issues of racial disharmony in Away that feels more current of its themes, but much of the piece hinges on anxieties of a bygone era. The Vietnam War and Gone With The Wind have long been surpassed as symbols of cultural significance.

Director Matthew Lutton chooses wisely, to hone in instead on the more theatrical, almost operatic qualities of the play, amplifying its non-naturalistic portions for a production that thrills with its flamboyance and episodic surrealness. The most memorable moments involve wildly imagined spectacle, usually without dialogue, prompting us to wonder if the text is but a conduit for Lutton’s prime interest in the visceral possibilities of the art form. Act IV commences with the most breathtaking of set transformations; a 10 second sequence stunning in its beauty, and flabbergasting with its technical proficiency, proving set designer Dale Ferguson and lighting designer Paul Jackson to be the real stars of the night.

Also stellar however, is the cast of eight, each one beautifully delicate in their interpretations of roles, and enchanting with the chemistry they formulate as an ensemble. Heather Mitchell is particularly mesmerising as Gwen, the angry unfulfilled mother, resentful of everything and everyone within earshot. Mitchell brings her performance close to caricature hysteria, but always ensuring that we understand Gwen’s small world of perpetual catastrophe. The other inconvenient female of Away is Coral, isolated and traumatised, played by Natasha Herbert who brings classic tragic glamour to the part, keeping us engaged in her painful journey, while providing entertainment value with her confidently expressive portrayal. These are two wonderful characters who give the show its exuberance, but they represent a kind of gender depiction that is thoroughly unbalanced and outmoded. The women are crazy and the men, sturdy. The women are a handful and the men have to pick up the pieces. This dichotomous construct is tired and dangerous.

There is noteworthy and substantial reinvention that takes place in this production of Away, demonstrating its undeniable need for an update. We are attached to works like this not just for its inherent artistic merit, but also because of commerce, nostalgia, and cultural sentiment. We must always move on when making art, but when we wish to look back, we must only do so without fear of being adventurous and radical.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Review: Member (Fairly Lucid Productions)

fairlylucidVenue: Blood Moon Theatre (Potts Point NSW), Feb 21 – Mar 4, 2017
Playwright: Ben Noble
Director: Casey Gould
Cast: Ben Noble
Image by Deryk McAlpin

Theatre review
Corey is a man whose homophobia is bigger than the love for his own son. Ben Noble’s Member is an investigation into how young men learn to hate, and more specifically, how a culture of gay bashing and gay murders, is fostered in places like Sydney. Corey grew up in the Northern Beaches, a regular white boy with no cares in the world, wanting for nothing except for the acceptance of his peers. We see him fall in with a gang of young men who hunt down gay individuals in isolated areas, and witness how he is pressured into his first killing.

The writing is powerful, dark and urgent. Although conceived as a monologue, it comprises voices of the many personalities in Corey’s world, that reflect the social construct of his very being. It helps us understand how violence is bred, not so that we forgive perpetrators, but to find a way to dismantle the process by which our innocent children are groomed into hateful forces of evil. The play marvellously exposes us to the depths of Corey’s vicious immorality, while insisting on his unassailable humanity, in order that we may recognise the reality of his wrongdoing and not have it glossed over as some kind of psychopathic exception. As a community, we are made to see in Member, where our complicity lies in the formation of behaviour and belief systems of people like Corey. We may not be responsible for these murderers, but we have to discover a change that will ensure that this continuing misanthropy is eradicated.

It is a finely calibrated show by director Casey Gould, impressively dynamic and wildly captivating with its expansive landscape of sentimentality. Very effective design work (sound by Coleman Grehan and lights by Lisa Mibus) relies on a high-polish precision that helps facilitate our every emotional response, and the delicate transitions between. Gould’s very complicated structure of speedy character transformations is a remarkably tall order, and although Ben Noble’s execution as actor is not completely flawless, he is often astonishing on stage. Noble’s extraordinary concentration and impeccable ability to thoroughly communicate meanings and emotions, elevates this simplest of theatrical forms, the one man show, to an art that is hard to beat for its empathetic impact.

There remain parts of the world where LGBT people are marginalised, and killed, as a matter of course. We may not feel the need to concern ourselves with those lives, but we must acknowledge that that same psychology and sociology of hatred exists right here, and when left unchecked, can manifest just as brutally. The flavour of the month in our violent West, may no longer be the lonely gay man who seeks solace in dangerous beats, but that attitude of senseless persecution of minorities is a thriving part of our lives, and must never be left disregarded.

www.fairlylucidproductions.com

Review: Big Crow (Brave New Word Theatre Company)

bravenewwordVenue: Pulse Group Theatre (Redfern NSW), Feb 21 – Mar 4, 2017
Playwright: Mark Langham
Director: Barry Walsh
Cast: Amylea Griffin, Charles Jones, Ben Maclaine, Jodine Muir, Liam Smith
Image by David Hooley

Theatre review
Many of us have felt the urge to kill our bosses, at one time or another. We may be able to operate under authority on most days, but human nature has its limits when kept under tight control. Tommy and Albert were Londoners brought to Australia in the 1930’s. Fed up with slave-like conditions, they decide to capture their employer in an effort to turn their fortunes around. Based on a true story, Mark Langham’s Big Crow features five contrasting personalities, each with their own distinct proclivities. The play sets up a fascinating context for their interactions, and even though the stakes at play are high, the sparks that fly are minute and momentary.

It is a plot that struggles to find focus, with competing narratives fighting for our attention. We are intrigued by the theatrical temperament of its characters, but their individual stories all seem too vague and under-cooked. What they reveal of themselves only teeter on the brink of something enticing and salacious, never really bringing us to a satisfying epiphany. Director Barry Walsh’s attempts at manufacturing an atmosphere of violence and brutality helps provide some visceral drama to the piece, and although some of the acting is convincing (Charles Jones and Jodine Muir are its saving grace), the show offers little that would allow us to connect.

When Peg discovers her husband tied up, about to be slaughtered, she reacts with an unexpected sadistic delight. The show is on, and like Peg, we wait for something to happen that would deliver thrills and enlightenment. When our expectations are not met, we can look back for what might have been missed, or we can move forward in search of the inevitable next opportunity.

www.bnwtheatre.com.au