Sauce, Bare Witness Theatre Company in association with Smiths Alternative, Smiths Alternative Upstairs, 11-15 Dec 2024 (and subsequent season at The Butterfly Club, Melbourne, 18-21 Dec

(photo credit Michelle Higgs-Novel Photographic)

"Sauce" is a very simply staged show - no set, no props, just two actors playing mutiple roles in a story of two young women who discover a friendship based on a common love of fast food and the various condiments that goes upon it. Ciara Elizabeth Smyth's script is a delight, an eccentric exploration of the inner lives of two unusual protagonists - Melia, a caregiver about to become homeless after the death of her grandma, and Maura, avoiding her unfaithful husband in the backroom of her part-time job - their meeting and the surprising bond that builds between them as they discover the things that connect them. It's fast, frisky, funny and a great opportunity for the two performers, Ashleigh Butler and Claire Imlach, to dive deep into the two characters and make them compelling, Butler as she gets caught up in her own fantasies until one lie too many makes things difficult, and Imlach facing humiliation with whatever dignity she can gather - and both find ways to differentiate their various side characters, from husbands to family members to co-workers to lawyers to dualling weight-watch-counsellors to delightful effect. 

Christopher Samuel Carroll directs with skill and care - meaning the story works as a driving narrative as much as a demonstration of the performer's talents - it's a remarkably clear, powerful narrative given the number of diversions it takes along the way to a warm touching finale, and the use of simple devices to switch the performers from role to role works well. In the wake of the recent announcement that Canberra Youth Theatre is pausing productions in 2025, it's a good reminder too that young performers can thrive outside the nest if given a stage and a supportive production environment, and I hope that this production proves a strong launchpad to both performers - certainly this is something special that definitely deserves to go a lot further. 

Tick, Tick .... Boom!, ACT Hub, Dec 11-21 2024

 

(production photography: Janelle McMenamin, Michael Moore)

Jonathan Larson's 1990 musical was originally a monologue piece for him to perform off-Broadway while he waited for his other works to receive a further hearing. After his death in 1996 it was reconceived as a three hander and has received regular performances ever since for an audience who's interested in seeing what else he had up his sleeve besides "Rent". It's a very autobiographical show, dealing with his relationship with his girlfriend, his best friend, his art and the end of his late-late-twenties as he turns 30 in 1990, seeing the position of a not-quite-yet-emerging-artist with all the inherent anxieties, neuroses and troubles that implies.

For anybody who was of an age to recieve "Rent" when it first appeared it felt like a major breaktrough. Since then it's felt more and more of its time - fond of sloganeering, of superficial activism and with a lot of passion and fury but not necessarily a lot of thought through ideas. "Tick Tick" is that but moreso - it's the product of a young man with a lot to say and not necessarily the clearest viewpoint on how to say them - but for those who were around in the 90s it's nice to go back to a time when the worst you could say about the political world at large was that it was kinda boring. And Larson's songs definately show skill - whether the bouncy argument "Therapy" or the lyrical "Come to your senses" or the anthemic "Louder than Words", it's easy to take them to heart. The plot threads tying them together are a little thin (the character based on him acts like an entitled brat, and he really doesn't give a lot of space to his supporting cast, whether it be girlfriend or alleged best-friend), but the show exists to support the songs more than anything else.

Performing those songs are a powerhouse cast - Alexander Unkikowski sells the neuroses and the drive that sits inside Jon, driving him to be as frustratingly goddamn young as he is, naive and rageful and difficult. Dave Collins as best friend Michael has fun with the side bits of a tricky role - his big emotional moment comes out of almost nowhere and never really gets a payoff - but there's joy in his bond with Jon and in the various side roles that Collins gets to get into. Taylor Paliaga is similarly underwritten - her dilemma is stated but not really explored, but she sings powerfully and handles the mix of love and frustration well in performance. 

Nikki Fitzgerald stages on an adaptable set (complete with comfy spot for the band at the back) that stylishly captures the downtown new york vibe required. Musical Director Callum Tolhurst-Close brings together a tight band of keyboard, drums, guitar and bass to support the cast well, including nailing those all important vocal harmonies. Choreographer Nathan Rutups gets some playful movement into the show. Fitzgerald also lights the show with an eclectic pallet that captures mood well. Nathan Patrech and Lucy Van Dooren's sound design is remarkably well captured, not overpowering the small venue of the hub. 

This is a well-realised production of a show I'm not entirely in love with in this version (I did like the movie directed by Lin Manuel Miranda for Netflix, but the stage version kinda feels a lot more like a collection of songs rather than a coherent narrative) - worth it to see this cast and band in action. 

A Midsummer Night's Dream, Echo Theatre, Aunty Louise Brown Park, The Q, 29 Nov-15 Dec

 Shakespeare's comedy of Fairies, Athenian Gentlefolk, rustic actors and the confusions that run around betweeen them has been an outdoor favourite for a while, with both Sydney and Melbourne hosting regular botanic garden productions every summer. So it's the perfect premiere show for the Q's new outside venue, and is given a production where the empahsis is very much on the fun and frothy side. Jordan Best assembles a cast of 21 to fill out the action and has the cast dashing around, in and out of the picnic-blanket-ready audience, with brisk and clear language to bring the crowd along with them. 

There's a rich variety of performances, from Lanie Hart's imperious Oberon/Thesueus, well matched with Kate Harris' generous Titania/Hippolyta, to the quartet of lovers - Caitlin Baker's yearning Helena, Jack Shanahan's entitled shitbag Demetrius, Liv Boddington's sweet-natured-until-provoked Hermia and Isaiah Prichard's determined Lysander - to the rude mechanicals, led by Kayla Ciceran's assertive Quince, Jim Adamik's grandly loquacious Bottom, Callum Doherty's gentle Flute, Joshua James' moody Starveling, Zoe Ross' emphatic Snout and Sally Taylor's gently gleeful Snug, all tangled with Rachel Robertson's distinctly playful Puck. 

In short it's a good summer frolic in the park (weather permitting) and well worth your time and your eyeballs.   

Jack Maggs, State Theatre Company of South Australia, Canberra Theatre Centre, Playhouse, 5-7 Nov

 Peter Carey's 1997 novel uses Charles Dickens' 1860 novel "Great Expectations" as a bouncing off point - taking the figure of Magwitch, one of the first literary appearances of an Australian expatriate, and exploring him more deeply, also using the life and work of Dickens in painting the figure of a novelist, Tobias Oates, who attempts to exploit Maggs' story and ultimately pays several costs. Samuel Adamson's adaptation theatricalises this in a rich and engrossing way as Maggs attempts to live among the english and realise his potential exposes him to greater and greater risks. 

Carey and Adamson are both Australians who live and work overseas - Carey has lived in New York since 1990 and Adamson has lived in London since 1991 - both are deeply interested in the way an Australian Identity was forged in the early days of colonisation and of the harsh brutality it meted out to those original inhabitants, and the way they processed it as a longing for the home that had rejected them overwhelms anything else. There's also a brutal self-reflection on the nature of writes as parisites of other people's stories, the Dickens analogue in this one an exploitative shonkster seeking to suck out as much knowledge of Maggs as possible to tell stories he can sell without ever reflecting on his subject as a damaged suffering human being. 

Geordie Brookman's production emphaises the theatrical nature of the event - starting with a largely blank stage as the actors warm up, and using direct address and a wide range of theatrical devices throughout to tell a fast and furious narrative - we're constantly reflecting back on this as a tale being told but also asked to centre Maggs as a man haunted by his past and unable to face the truth about the world that he's in now. It's a rich literate suet pudding for christmas with plenty of chunky food for thought. 

Eurydice, Lexi Sekuless Productions, Mill Theatre at Dairy Road,

 

It's interesting that this is the second Sarah Ruhl play to perform in Canberra this year, after "Dead Man's Cell Phone", and it's also interesting that these are the two plays she's written that are most engaged with death and the afterlife - "Cell Phone" treating it as a farce about a young woman finding her identity as she co-mingles with the history of a stranger, while "Eurydice" is a mythic tragedy about the loss of connections - Ruhl concentrates on elements that aren't normally focussed on in the myth through the eyes of Eurydice, including her reconnection with her departed father and the nature of the underworld where the sense of personal identity is lost and people are forced into isolation. Amy Kowalckzuk's production has beauty as well as melancholy running deep in its soul, from the opening rhapsody of Eurydice and Orpheus's young love, to the distance that opens up when she can't absorb his beloved music as much as he wants, to the distraction of the Nasty Interesting Man, to the persecution of the chorus of Stones, to the compassionate reconnection with her father to the final playing out of the myth in bleak loss. While it's a short play it never feels rushed in its developments, with moments given time to ruminate and impinge on the audience.

It's an astonishingly beautiful production, using the simple device of a two-levelled stage (reflecting surface world and underworld) with parallel movements on each level. Michelle Norris' movement is a highlight throughout, whether it be a ballet of young love, Eurydice's gasp-inducing fall, or the menacing movements of the chorus of stones.Simon Grist's set has just the elements the storytelling needs, and is lit to perfection by Jennifer Wright. 

Alana Dehmam-Preston has grace and impact as Eurydice, a heroine whose heart is as important as her actions - there's a real warmth to her performance that draws the audience in. Blue Hyslop as Orpheus has sweet warmth but also that slight sense of self-regard that makes Orpheus such a frustrating suitor  - their art is always in their head pushing out feelings towards any other. Tim Seukuless as Eurydice's father gives a sweet longing performance, protective and gentle yet fierce in his desire to protect. The chorus of Sarah Hull, Heidi Silberman and Sarah Nathan-Truesdale work well together as blunt forces of reality to stand in the way of these poetic desires, showing glee in the way they can try to break the others down. And Michael Cooper as the Nasty Interesting Man and Lord of the Underworld shows casual whimsy and a blithe carelessness that makes his cruelties even nastier. 

This is a beatuiful, tight and engrossing production that is well worth the seeing. 

Bloody Murder, Canberra Rep, 21 Nov-7 Dec

 

The conventions of the mystery thriller are well understood and equally well parodied by now - the group of suspects gathered together in a remote location all with multiple motives to slaughter one another, and bodies drop on a regular schedule until a finale where all is revealed. Versions of it are still going, whether it be the regular cycle of murders in Midsomer (23 series and counting) or revivals of Agatha Christie on stage and screen. Even after frequent spoofs from Neil Simon's "Murder by Death" and Jonathan Lynn's "Clue", and Tom Stoppard's existential parody of both the country house murder and theatre critics in "Real Inspector Hound", the genre still persists (then again, post-hound, theatre critics also still persist so... maybe we'll just call it even).

Ed Sala's script for "Bloody Murder" plays into the stereotypes - an assembly of types from drunken actor to disreputable nephew, boastful major, bashful ingenue, imperious dowager aunt and faithful maid - before pulling a few twists on the formula that examine the workings behind these kinds of stories. It doesn't quite go to the dark existential places that Stoppard did but it's still clever, funny and, in Josh Wiseman's production, brisk, stylish and effective. 

The septet of performers embody their stereotypes while going beyond them as the plot requires. There's physical comedy as the bodies hit the floor under various methods of murder, there's dexterity as the twisty-turny plot reaches unlikely conclusions and there's all kinds of surprises that a critic would have to be evil to hint at. The production is a delight for the senses from a perfect country-estate set to mood-setting sound and lighting from Nathan Scriberras and Neville Pye. 

This isn't a show that's trying for depth, just for diversion, fun and a few thrills, and it captures those perfectly. It deserves large appreciative audiences. 

Sweat, Sydney Theatre Company, Wharf Theatre, Wharf 1, 11 Nov-22 Dec

 Lynn Notage's 2015 play deals with a small town in crisis, as the employees of a steelworks gather in the local bar to largely bitch, moan and blow off some steam. The world financial crisis is hitting elsewhere and Cynthia is in with a chance of finally being promoted off the factory floor. But soon it becomes clear that bad times are coming to everyone and some of the decisions Cynthia has to make will create a rift between her and her old friend Tracey, and lead to repercussions for both of their sons. 

In some ways the play is a little bit of a bait-and-switch, particularly with the way it's promoted and cast - the casting of Paula Arundell as Cynthia and Lisa McCune as Tracey leads you to assume the play will revolve largely around them, but the play is looking more widely across the cast and finds its closing drive in focusing on the two young men playing their sons. There's a rich array of experience looking at the effects of economic downturn on a small town in Pennsylvania across several different people - the effects on their lives and on their expected futures. It's never dryly doctrinaire or an uninvolved debate, either - it's intensely personal and human. 

There is some unevenness in direction - McCune and Arundell are, as suits their status as experienced performers, given a chance to play a wide range, from McCune's initial ingratiating self-deprection that turns sour as hope dies up and her resentments turn outwards, to Arundell's joy that turns bitter as she finds herself having to tell long term friends hard truths that they refuse to listen to. But the performances of James Fraser and Tinashe Mangwana as the sons feel a lot more one-note - there's not quite the variety of reaction that these roles need, though they both play into the shattering nature of the final two scenes. Gabriel Alvardo makes a character who could feel like a point being made into something a lot more human, someone who makes the wrong decisions for the best of reasons. Yure Covich as bartender Sta plays intermediary so well and pays such a brutal price for his choice to try to stand up in the face of extremism in a way that breaks the heart. 

Jeremy Allen's design of the bar is impressively solid - a gritty, neon dive that you can almost smell the spilt beer in. I don't think it's a perfect production, or even necessarily a perfect play, but it is gripping and powerful and very thought provoking, even being written in 2015 meaning it's technically pre-Trump while explainign some of the setups for why he's a thing.