Review: After Dinner (Sydney Theatre Company)

Venue: Wharf 1 Sydney Theatre Company (Walsh Bay NSW), Jan 15 – Mar 7, 2015
Playwright: Andrew Bovell
Director: Imara Savage
Cast: Glenn Hazeldine, Anita Hegh, Rebecca Massey, Josh McConville, Helen Thomson
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
As our societies become increasingly concerned with political correctness, theatre seems to have to reach back through the annals of time to locate comedies that appeal to wide audiences, and ones that do not disrupt any of our delicate sensibilities. Contemporary subject matter is replaced with nostalgia, and we can laugh at days gone by in the safety of imagining that things have improved since. Andrew Bovell’s 1988 play After Dinner is a harmless piece about loneliness and sex. It does not resonate with great poignancy, but it does strike a chord with accurate depictions of human emotion and behaviour.

The production’s core feature is its extraordinary cast. All five actors are brilliant comics and they take the opportunity to showcase their very best under the generous direction of Imara Savage, who cleverly places focus on performance above all else. The script and its humour have aged significantly, but Savage’s team apply a modern interpretation that gives an unexpected edge to what could have been a desperately clichéd farce.

Helen Thomson plays Monika with magnificent aplomb. There is a fearless abandon to her approach that gives the show an air of wildness and decadence, encouraging the crowd to indulge in the text’s many mischievous, and occasionally blue, jokes. Thomson’s extravagant sense of humour is infectious and irresistible, and the almost ridiculous bigness of her performance is given solid support by a gentle empathy she invests into her character’s underlying sadness. The role of Stephen is played by Josh McConville, who manages to miraculously marry sleaze with sweet, creating a persona that is as repulsive as he is charming. The actor’s physicality is perfectly exploited (with the help of stunning work on wigs by David Jennings) to create an appearance and a movement vocabulary that is nothing short of hilarious, and very evocative indeed, of a kind of unfortunate barfly from the era.

Design elements of the production are effective but less than ambitious. The look and sound of the work is surprisingly tame for a decade that is associated with poor taste and general gaudiness, but fortunately, all the action that takes place on stage is anything but beige. Beneath the energetic and incessant provision of laughter, is a view into modern lives, and the challenges we experience with issues of intimacy. Instead of after dinner tribute bands, we talk today, about hook up apps and sexting, but continue to be confounded by the search for love and some of its illusions of fulfillment. With the unfathomable advances in information technology, communications have taken over every aspect of every second, yet loneliness is more present than ever before.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Suzy Goes See’s Best Of 2014

sgs-best2014

2014 has been a busy year. Choosing memorable moments from the 194 shows I had reviewed in these 12 months is a mind-bending exercise, but a wonderful opportunity that shows just how amazing and vibrant, theatre people are in Sydney. Thank you to artists, companies, publicists and punters who continue to support Suzy Goes See. Have a lovely holiday season and a happy new year! Now on to the Best Of 2014 list (all in random order)…

Suzy x

 Avant Garde Angels
The bravest and most creatively experimental works in 2014.

 Quirky Questers
The most unusual and colourful characters to appear on our stages in 2014.

♥ Design Doyennes
Outstanding visual design in 2014. Fabulous lights, sets and costumes.

♥ Darlings Of Dance
Breathtaking brilliance in the dance space of 2014.

♥ Musical Marvels
Outstanding performers in cabaret and musicals in 2014.

♥ Second Fiddle Superstars
Scene-stealers of 2014 in supporting roles.

♥ Ensemble Excellence
Casts in 2014 rich with chemistry and talent.

♥ Champs Of Comedy
Best comedic performances of 2014.

♥ Daredevils Of Drama
Best actors in dramatic roles in 2014.

♥ Wise With Words
Best new scripts of 2014.

 Directorial Dominance
Best direction in 2014.

♥ Shows Of The Year
The mighty Top 10.

♥ Suzy’s Special Soft Spot
A special mention for the diversity of cultures that have featured in its programming this year.

  • ATYP

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Photography by Roderick Ng, Dec 2014

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Best of 2018 | Best of 2017 | Best of 2016Best of 2015Best Of 2013

Review: Cyrano De Bergerac (Sydney Theatre Company)

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

Review: Platonov (Mophead / Catnip Productions )

mophead1Venue: ATYP (Walsh Bay NSW), Nov 5 – 22, 2014
Playwright: Anton Chekhov (adapted by Anthony Skuse)
Director: Anthony Skuse
Cast: Gary Clementson, Charlie Garber, Suzanne Pereira, Amy Hack, Geraldine Hakewill, Graeme McRae, Sam O’Sullivan, Jason Perini, Matilda Ridgway, Eloise Snape, Dorje Swallow, Sam Trotman, Terry Karabelas, Edward McKenna
Image by Matthew Neville

Theatre review
“Impoverished nobility, bored gentry, long afternoons, and a gun” is Anthony Skuse’s characterisation of Chekhov’s legacy, and in this new adaptation of Platonov, Skuse constructs a languid late nineteenth century Russian town, focusing on the title character’s love affairs, and the acquisition of an estate by the underclass. Skuse’s script contains several strong narratives with complex psychological and emotional dimensions, but the work is surprisingly comical, buoyed by a young cast who seems determined to keep proceedings light and frothy.

Skuse’s use of space is aesthetically outstanding. His stage design is minimal, but through the sensitive positioning of a generous number of chairs and actors, scenes come to life and we experience a sublime transformation of time and space. Lighting design by Chris Page and sound by Alistair Wallace are subtle but powerful in effecting atmosphere with a dramatic elegance. The innovative use of chorus and Russian folk songs further enhances the theatrical experience, and this is where most of the performers excel. Direction of performance timing and energy is executed well, but motivations tend to be surface, and it is this lack of gravity that tarnishes the production. Costume is not credited, and the cast often looks as though they are still in rehearsal garb, which detracts from the social and class structures that inform much of the play’s content.

Leading man Charlie Garber is charismatic, with an impressive presence, but his approach is persistently farcical, and he anchors the production in a frivolity that sits uncomfortably with Chekhov’s weighty themes. Platonov’s spinelessness can be humorous, but it is also a serious element that ultimately represents the core reason for the destruction of lives in the story. We may perceive the responsibility associated with the lack of courage and virtue in key personalities, but the show needs to deliver something more poignant in order for its audience to connect on a personal and emotional level. Sam Trotman as Sergei demonstrates a much stronger commitment to the role’s authenticity. His ascension from puerility to anguish over the course of the play is thoroughly compelling, and his fierce vitality adds a much needed edge to a production that tends to be too understated in its storytelling.

The show successfully removes conventional stylistic touches that could be thought of as clichéd in standard representations of Chekhov’s scripts, but the vacuity left behind in their absence is not sufficiently compensated by the show’s moderate sense of originality. Skuse wishes to expose the essence of these character’s very beings, to achieve an understanding of how we function as individuals and as societies, but the language required to communicate those concepts seem to ask for something more elaborate and substantial. It turns out that stripping something bare does not necessarily give easy access to the truth, and what we think of as cosmetic could actually hold significance and meaning.

www.mophead.com.au | www.catnipproductions.com

Review: Kryptonite (Sydney Theatre Company)

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

Review: Calpurnia Descending (Sisters Grimm / Sydney Theatre Company)

sistersgrimmVenue: Wharf 2 Sydney Theatre Company (Walsh Bay NSW), Oct 9 – Nov 8, 2014
Playwright: Ash Flanders, Declan Greene
Director: Declan Greene
Cast: Paul Capsis, Ash Flanders, Sandy Gore, Peter Paltos
Image by Brett Boardman

Theatre review
Calpurnia Descending borrows heavily from the 1950 Hollywood films, All About Eve and Sunset Boulevard. With an exploration into the evolution of show business and media, we observe that artifice and female rivalry persist as dominating themes that shape our consumption of popular culture through the years. Ash Flanders and Declan Greene’s script is a decadent high camp romp that exercises its creators’ eccentric and original vision, with a resulting beast that is more about heresy and iconoclasm than it is about entertainment or storytelling. In spite of its meaningful central ideas, the work does not aim to deliver poignancy but is interested instead, in unusual perspectives of theatre and innovative modes of experiencing live performance.

Half of the show is seen on a cinema sized screen. We can hear sounds from the live action emanating from behind the projection, so we know that the actors are creating the show in real time, but the significant length of the filmic portion means that it feels strangely close to being at the movies. It is understandable that Greene, as director, chooses the video format to discuss our obsession with screens big and small, but placing the production in a theatrical context is a curious decision, given the obvious affiliation with film and its possibilities. Nevertheless, Greene’s work is vibrant, colourful and thoroughly quirky, often with an air of vaudeville permeating the atmosphere. He is sensitive to energy levels, and although the show’s sense of humour is specific, he maintains a pace that is tight and lively, ensuring an amusing experience for most audiences.

Paul Capsis does his best Norma Desmond in the role of Beverly Dumont, a star of the Broadway stage poised to make a sensational comeback at the ten-year anniversary of her misreported death. Capsis brings a drama and grandiosity that the part requires, along with excellent comic timing and a gripping presence. The role is simple, but the actor’s work is beautifully complex, adding gravitas to something that is determined to revel in its silliness. Calpurnia Descending‘s version of Eve Harrington is the duplicitous Violet St Clair, played with mischievous exuberance by Flanders whose wide range of camp extends from delightful to macabre. The actors form a strong and balanced team in their portrayal of a malevolent sisterhood, but not much is made of the inevasible drag element. There is no obvious commentary that arises from the casting of male performers, and the production would not present too differently without it, so perhaps a point is made about the irrelevance of gender in the narratives we weave.

At a time when some of us can spend virtually every waking moment in front of a screen of some description, the production should be able to provide some resonance with its interest in the way we relate to mass media and its celebrities, but its preoccupation with depicting shallowness prevents us from connecting in an authentic way. Be that as it may, the show is memorable for being adventurous and rich with original thought, and it is the artists who dare to push the boundaries that we must value the most.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au | www.sistersgrimm.com.au

Review: Sugarland (ATYP)

atypVenue: ATYP (Walsh Bay NSW), Aug 27 – Sep 13, 2014
Playwright: Rachael Coopes, Wayne Blair
Director: Fraser Corfield, David Page
Cast: Narek Arman, Michael Cameron, Rachael Coopes, Elena Foreman, Hunter Page-Lochard, Dubs Yunupingu
Image by Tracey Schramm

Theatre review
Sugarland is a work about teenagers in Katherine, a remote town in the Northern Territory. The play is performed by young actors, aged 17 to 21, but written by adult artists who have studied the youth of the region over a two-year period. Rachael Coopes and Wayne Blair’s script is powerful in its authenticity, with controversial elements that resonate with a disarming honesty. The truths it reveals, both beautiful and ugly, would be challenging for any audience. Like most memorable work about teenagers, from Puberty Blues (Gabrielle Carey and Kathy Lette) to Kids (Larry Clark), it is the shocking transgressions they depict that leave an impression, and it is precisely the taboo nature of what is being discussed that makes these texts significant and valuable.

Directed by Fraser Corfield and David Page, the production is unexpectedly elegant and subdued. The confronting issues it tackles are not sensationalised. Instead, they are presented in a quietly pragmatic way so that we are prevented from feeling any sense of alienation from its characters. We are seduced into a deceptively cosy world, which in fact contains many aspects that disturb our middle class notions of conventions and acceptability. Corfield and Page’s achievement is in their creation of a political theatre that chooses to speak rationally, rather than to appeal with overblown emotion and hysterical expression. Their gentle approach allows the play’s message to seep through, and to strike a chord where dismissive delusions usually reside.

Performances are not always accomplished, but every actor’s creation on this stage is thoroughly fascinating. The teenage characters seem familiar, but we are provided rare insight into a depth that habitually evades public scrutiny. Dubs Yunupingu plays Nina, a disenfranchised high school girl of indigenous background. Yunupingu has a sensitive quality that we connect with, and a fragility that secures our empathy. The lack of pretension in her craft is refreshing and often very moving. The unhinged Jimmy is portrayed by Hunter Page-Lochard whose impressive presence gives the show a dangerous edge. Page-Lochard is an exuberant performer who brings an exciting unpredictability to his every appearance. Narek Arman is a jovial and charming actor, and his interpretation of the recent Iraqi migrant Aaron is a delightful contrast to the other moodier personalities.

The beginning of political action is awareness, and awareness begins at giving a voice to the disadvantaged. The isolated inhabitants of Sugarland cannot see the privileged lives of its Sydney audience, but their stories and adversities are told to us without ambiguity. They do not seem angry or claim to be desperate, but we know that every young Australian deserves more. The distinction between the haves and the have nots in this lucky country is an unequivocal disgrace, and the journey towards greater equity must be accelerated.

www.atyp.com.au

Review: Macbeth (Sydney Theatre Company)

stc
Venue: Sydney Theatre at Walsh Bay (Sydney NSW), Jul 21 – Sep 27, 2014
Playwright: William Shakespeare
Director: Kip Williams
Cast: Paula Arundell, Kate Box, Ivan Donato, Eden Falk, John Gaden, Melita Jurisic, Robert Menzies, Hugo Weaving
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review (originally published Auditorium Magazine Peace Issue 2014)
In the process of art-making, it is often the spirit of experimentation that elevates a work to heights of significance and esteem. Major theatre companies around the world with greater access to funding and other resources do not always prioritise innovation in their repertoire, often choosing instead to deliver entertainment that their patrons would readily embrace. The decision to stage a version of Shakespeare’s Macbeth with a prominent actor in the title role, exemplifies the kind of tension that exists where a show’s anticipated mass popularity and the expectations that come along with it, threatens the commitment to artistic risk, in the trepidation of alienating audiences or indeed, underestimating their ability to relate to unconventional interpretations.

Kip Williams’ direction of the piece reflects an awareness of the diversity in his audience’s tastes. Shakespeare is left untainted and the celebrity actor is given ample room to flex his dramatic muscles for his legions of fans, but the stage is thoroughly explored around those prerequisites. Williams gives the crowd what they have come for, but also offers up fresh concepts and unexpected flourishes that prevent the production from ever appearing unoriginal or unambitious. Williams’ vision does not rewrite the 400 year-old play, and neither does it add significantly to its themes and ideas, but he uses the text to explore the nature of the art form in all its physical and emotive possibilities. The audience’s early excitement is further amplified, when we discover upon stepping into the venue, that our tickets point to seats located on the stage itself, and we are positioned so that the auditorium come into full view and our more familiar chairs have become the backdrop. The meaning of this radical reversion is open and unexplained, but it seems the director wishes to keep us close to the action by placing us directly on stage with the performers.

The production begins as though we are observing a casual reading, with the only discernible element of set design being a simple table (that seems to find its way into every rehearsal space). The cast appears in nondescript clothing, looking more regular than average Joes on the streets of Sydney. None of the grandeur of fictitious kingdoms, or the formalities associated with Shakespeare are present. Disappointment in the production’s minimalism is soon dispelled when the first murder takes place, and a series of fantastical effects begins to unfold. Supernaturalism figures heavily in Shakespeare’s writing, and the depiction of a world that is half earth, half hell is a striking gesture from Williams’ directorial hand. His ghostly atmospherics are deftly created by production designer Alice Babidge’s ingenuity, together with the adventurous efforts of lighting designer Nick Schlieper and the insidious talents of Max Lyandvert, composer and sound designer. It comes as no surprise that Sydney Theatre Company delivers a technically proficient show, but the stage craft in their production of Macbeth, shows flair and intuition in addition to expertise.

Hugo Weaving as Macbeth is absolutely captivating, perhaps unsurprisingly so. The role is wildly imagined and Weaving’s impressive range is exposed dramatically. The actor’s control of voice and body is confident and skilled, and his thorough exploration of the text translates into a dynamic performance that keeps us delighted and entertained. Acting on this stage is professional and committed, but characters are distant. We watch their stories with fascination, but we are not always emotionally engaged. Performances are thoughtful and calculated, but they do not always resonate viscerally, and can sometimes lack an intuitive energy. Weaving’s work in the “dagger scene” is clear in its motivations, showing us the onset of the character’s descent into madness, but the impending consequences that befall him do not translate with enough power. We do not sense sufficiently the grave danger that awaits him, but when emotions of regret take hold later in the piece, Weaving’s mastery truly shines.

The other famed soliloquy, Lady Macbeth’s sleepwalking scene, is similarly underwhelming. Melita Jurisic plays her role with an alluring extravagance, but the heightened lunacy at her final scene feels almost too predictable after presenting a Lady Macbeth who had already seemed quite deranged from the start. Nevertheless, Jurisic’s intensity adds a sensational energy of avant-gardism that gives the production a sophisticated modern edge. Her anti-naturalist style fits beautifully with the show’s paranormal quality, and the toughness that she injects into the role keeps us mesmerised. Paula Arundell crosses gender and ethnic boundaries to play a compelling Banquo. Arundell’s work has a natural authenticity that helps create a character that is consistently believable, and her considerable stage presence gives Banquo an effortless palpability. Her star quality is pronounced even at the scene of the feast, where she plays an apparition, wordless and with little movement. There is an appealing stillness that she delivers, which our eyes very readily gravitate towards.

Williams’ use of space is a greater achievement than his use of Shakespeare’s script. His determination and love for theatrical experimentation is exhilarating to witness, and while his concepts might have been inspired by Macbeth, they can appear quite divorced from the text itself. Furthermore, the story and its characters often feel subsumed by the grandness of his aspirations. The narrative is a majestic one and it resists abatement. We want to be swept away by its drama and tragedy, but our indulgence in all the spectacle takes precedence and our senses struggle to form a meaningful reconciliation between form and content. This is a strong production with artistic merit emerging from all aspects and faculties, and although it connects more with our senses that it does with our emotions, what we see and hear is utterly breathtaking.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au

Review: Mr Kolpert (Pantsguys)

pantsguysVenue: ATYP (Walsh Bay NSW), Jul 30 – Aug 16, 2014
Playwright: David Gieselmann (translated by David Tushingham)
Director: James Dalton
Cast: Paige Gardiner, Garth Holcombe, Claire Lovering, Tim Reuden, Edan Lacey, Tom Christophersen
Image by Gez Xavier Mansfield

Theatre review
The theatre is a gift that takes many forms. Audiences sit in darkness full of anticipation, waiting for a revelation, never really knowing what is to be unraveled. Mr Kolpert quickly assures us that it is intent on providing entertainment and laughter, but we discover very soon, that the comedy is black, and the true depth of its morbidity is not known until we arrive at the very end. Although tremendously funny, the comical work is first and foremost an absurdist one. We might be laughing from start to finish, but it is only the loudness of that reaction that disguises a greater response that occurs, in which our minds and emotions are constantly being confronted and agitated, and we struggle to grapple with our own morals and etiquette.

The play presents an omnibus of transgressions through a series of unrealistic and improbable events, and every taboo that the narrative comes into contact with, it aggressively explores, keeping us unnerved and outraged. The comedy that comes along with these controversies is the additional challenge it issues, and we are constantly questioning the appropriateness of our laughter. It makes us wonder if we are keeping polite company in this quite classy venue. Theatre is a communal event, and the meaning of laughter in this social setting can be contentious, but the extremity of what transpires on stage protects our civility. It is simply silly to assume that any of the crowd’s giggles or guffaws can ever be taken as a sign of condonation of the horrific behaviour we see. Still, we are never allowed to feel too at ease. The show is at its core, a disturbing one.

James Dalton’s marvelous direction is sensitive not only to our senses, but also to our hearts and minds. He keeps us fascinated by everything we see and hear, and always keeps our intellect and emotions engaged. His is a theatre that feels all encompassing, intensely engaging and completely stimulating. Dalton does not allow the audience to sit back and observe. This is art without passivity, and he wants us to be on tenterhooks.

Assisting with Dalton’s vision is an excellent team of designers, including composer Marty Jamieson, who also partners up with Alistair Wallace for sound design. Their work provides rich textural variation between scenes, and is often crucial in heightening the quality of irony in the work. Lighting by Benjamin Brockman establishes the production’s aesthetic sophistication, and is memorable for his adventurous sensibility. The extent to which Brockman pushes his creativity is impressive, especially with fairly limited facilities, but two moments of bloodshed are too darkly shadowed, causing momentary, and unintended ambiguity.

The team of actors is exuberant, animated and bold. The playfulness they inject is hugely important to the enjoyment of the piece, with Paige Gardiner’s performance as Edith Mole standing out as a delightful highlight. Gardiner’s remarkable and confident comic ability is showcased perfectly by a creation that is at once, wild yet nuanced. There is a fierce determination to connect, with both cast and viewers, that makes her work irresistible, and thoroughly hilarious. Equally compelling is Claire Lovering, who consistently surprises with a gentle presence that readily transforms into convincing madness. Lovering demonstrates greater subtlety than other cast members but never fails to attack with savagery at every appropriate opportunity. This production of Mr Kolpert features thoughtful and skilled entertainers who must all be commended for a brilliantly vibrant show.

David Gieselmann’s writing exposes the chaos of this thing we call life, and our ravenous need for making logic out of randomness. He talks about the abnormal that resides within everything that seems normal, thereby tempting us to dismantle our standards of morality and ethics, in order to realise their artifice, frailty and inconstancy. The show is about society’s hypocrisies as well as its requirement for order. It does not say that our lives are lies, but it does encourage us to think about the rules we live by, how they are manufactured and the svengalis who might be behind them all.

www.pantsguys.com

Review: Mojo (Sydney Theatre Company)

mojoVenue: Wharf 1 Sydney Theatre Company (Walsh Bay NSW), May 17 – Jul 5, 2014
Playwright: Jez Butterworth
Director: Iain Sinclair
Cast: Tony Martin, Lindsay Farris, Eamon Farren, Ben O’Toole, Josh McConville
Images by Brett Boardman

Theatre review (originally published at auditoriummag.com)
When boys grow up and begin to find their feet in the adult world as men of stature, the acquisition of masculinity often becomes critically important. The characters in Jez Butterworth’s Mojo seem to spend all their waking moments satisfying that overwhelming and insatiable need to be seen and treated as men of worth, and in the London underground gangland of the late 1950s, this involves unthinkable violence, and outrageous criminality. Butterworth’s daring and extravagantly brutal 1995 script illustrates a world of sex, drugs and rock and roll, where sons are raped, fathers are murdered, and honour is maleficently displaced.

Butterworth’s work starts up in high gear. He gets to the mayhem quickly without setting up thorough introductions for its story. There is a disorientation that occurs in the beginning, and the viewer is required to be alert, in order to decipher manic events while keeping up with the fantastically rich dialogue. Iain Sinclair’s direction in the initial scenes emphasises speed and energy, which can be a challenge for the plot, but a hyper-reality is firmly established for the play’s time and space. We are transported to a past that fits our imagination in part, but also controversial. The play’s rampant drug taking and extreme profanity is a far cry from the innocence of Grease, and the sophistication of Orson Welles’ Touch Of Evil. Sinclair’s work owes more to David Lynch’s 1986 masterpiece Blue Velvet in its handling of ultraviolence and surreal personalities. An air of menace sets in quickly and the pressure it exerts is unrelenting. The production has a magnetic quality in spite of its obscure otherness. It plays like a riddle, glutted with suspense and eccentricity, and we are seduced at every step, desperate to peek around every impending corner.

Indeed, the production succeeds as a piece of narrative-driven entertainment. It is engrossing, amusing and thrilling, with a good amount of shock value thrown in for a sense of gangster authenticity that also gives the show a cool edge. Its themes are not immediately evident, but they resonate afterward. The show does not ask questions directly, but it certainly encourages us to question what had been seen. Sinclair might be comfortable with dramatics that strike like a sledgehammer, but his ability to probe our conscience about bigger issues is as accomplished as it is subtle.

Also displaying excellence is Sinclair’s design team. Visual aspects, including lighting, costumes and sets are adventurously creative and intelligent. Nicholas Rayment’s lights are exhaustively explored, fulfilling functional and aesthetic requirements equally brilliantly. There are moments of beauty that look to be inspired by film noir, and also memorable incidences of dread that are as sinister as a dank lane way in any cosmopolitan city at 3am. Pip Runciman’s set design ingeniously creates spaces out of the usually nondescript Wharf Theatre stage. Levels and doorways are introduced to great effect, and the representation of a nightclub that is attractive in front, and dilapidated behind, is efficiently managed.

Percussionist Alon Ilsar’s work is perhaps the most inventive. He provides accompaniment for most of the scenes, underscoring action by amplifying mood and manufacturing tension. Ilsar’s background sounds are noticeable but not intrusive. When it does come to the fore, it is in the style of experimental jazz, which adds considerable sophistication to the production.

Chemistry in the cast is strong, and mesmerising. The actors are perfectly in tune, and together, they present a microcosm that we find believable in spite of its irrationality, and irresistible even though it is deeply repulsive. Josh McConville is comically frantic as the amphetamine fuelled Potts. His consistent buoyancy gives the play a propelling energy, and prevents the darker sections from becoming too melancholic. There is an enjoyable vibrancy to his performance that keeps an important sense of youth and juvenility in the story. Together with Ben O’Toole’s slightly more innocent Sweet, they portray a couple of young men keen to prove themselves, and to make a mark in their sordid world. Lindsay Farris is enigmatic as Baby, a deranged personality who is central to the play’s interest in maturity and manhood. Farris takes the opportunity to depict his unorthodox character with a liberal measure of offbeat artistic choices, and carves out a fascinating performance that is simultaneously alluring and poignant.

The young men in Mojo are in a state of confusion. We see them exercise the impulse to impress, to emulate, and to succeed, but their role models are severely impaired. Masculinity is highly valued, and in many of our lives, it is through acquiring masculinity that men achieve social acceptance and establish status. The definition of masculinity is then a matter of great concern. Greed, violence, destruction, deception, betrayal and criminality are all inextricably linked with notions of success and fulfillment in Mojo. It is a bleak picture painted of the past, but it seems that the proposition made here is that evolution is illusory, and that boys will be boys.

www.sydneytheatre.com.au