Alana Valentine has written a number of plays that fall into the "docudrama" genre - including major plays like "Run Rabbit Run" (about the South Sydney rugby League team), "Parramatta Girls" (about the Parramatta Girls home) and "Head Full of Love" (about the Alice Springs beanie festival). She's stealthily become one of Australian drama's most prolific writers (she has five plays premiering this year, including two that are playing in Canberra, "Letters to Lindy" touring at the Canberra Theatre and "Cold Light"premiering at the Street). Her work is regularly carefully researched, using extensive interviews about the topic to create plays that reflect the issue at hand in an interestingly interrogative way.
"Ladies Day" is a little different. While it's based on research into the queer community in Broome, Valentine becomes a character in the play (here under the pseudonym "Lorena") - partially because it's as much about how the stories are told and who really owns them as much as the content of those stories. It's not a story that completely resolves itself in the course of the telling, but it raises a lot of fascinating questions to think about.
As the central story teller, Wade Briggs walks a tightrope between tensely withholding and emotional vulnerability expertly. Dry and defensive, but clearly also deeply in pain, he is the beating heart of the play. Matthew Backer provides excellent support as his friend. Lucia Mastrantone doubles as both the author-surrogate and as a cop, and differentiates nicely, as does Elan Zavlesky as the somewhat straightlaced Rodney and the predatory John.
A probing, thoughtful and emotional play, "Ladies Day" holds the attention with wit, heart and soul.
Friday, 25 March 2016
Thursday, 24 March 2016
Josh Glass in the Ultimate Triumph of Loneliness, Polit Bar, Manuka
Doing a standup show about a recent breakup is the kinda thing that is fraught with peril. The emotions are surely too raw, the comic perspective difficult to attain, and the risk of simply being a whiny-twit-who-can't-understand-why-it-all-ended-while-at-the-same-time-demonstrating-exactly-why-it-ended-by-whining is pretty damn great.
Luckily, Josh Glass falls down none of these rabbit holes. Possibly because, for all that this show is about a recent relationship that ended in breakup, there's not a lot of bitterness here. There's ruefulness, sure, and a little bit of "wasn't I stupid", but it never feels like revenge is the motive here. Glass instead turns inwards and finds the common romantic stuipdities that people fall into, and celebrates and mocks his own naivety and errors with charm.
This isn't a completely polished hours - there's a couple of jokes that don't quite land, and the ending is more a "and I'm done" rather than a "this caps this perfectly", but it is a skilfully presented hour of comedy from one of Canberra comedy's risking stars.
In support, Riley Bell was a solid MC, with strong skills in acting out his various tales of modern debauchery, while Peter Szmowski had a few good gags but a bad tendency to say his setups twice ("People are ridiculous, they're ridiculous") that could stand to be cut (admittedly, he's a polish performer doing a set in English, and any set I did in Polish would be way worse, but still... he could lose the re-statements)
Luckily, Josh Glass falls down none of these rabbit holes. Possibly because, for all that this show is about a recent relationship that ended in breakup, there's not a lot of bitterness here. There's ruefulness, sure, and a little bit of "wasn't I stupid", but it never feels like revenge is the motive here. Glass instead turns inwards and finds the common romantic stuipdities that people fall into, and celebrates and mocks his own naivety and errors with charm.
This isn't a completely polished hours - there's a couple of jokes that don't quite land, and the ending is more a "and I'm done" rather than a "this caps this perfectly", but it is a skilfully presented hour of comedy from one of Canberra comedy's risking stars.
In support, Riley Bell was a solid MC, with strong skills in acting out his various tales of modern debauchery, while Peter Szmowski had a few good gags but a bad tendency to say his setups twice ("People are ridiculous, they're ridiculous") that could stand to be cut (admittedly, he's a polish performer doing a set in English, and any set I did in Polish would be way worse, but still... he could lose the re-statements)
Friday, 11 March 2016
Rock of Ages, Canberra Philharmonic, Erindale Theatre
There is a time and a place for good old-fashioned no-brains-required-whatsoever entertainment. And "Rock of Ages" serves that well. An exceptionally cheesy 80's rock musical compiled around twenty-odd songs of the hair-metal era, this is a case of very good production sustaining what is a somewhat ridiculous exercise.
The plot is your standard boy-meets-girl-boy-loses-girl-boy-gets-girl-again played against the background of LA's Sunset Strip in the mid-to-late-80s, and is servicable enough, most of the time. THe main attraction is the songs which are performed with all the energy appropriate to the era (including a well-choreographed bevy of dancers doing their best skanky writhing).
Emma McCormack plays "girl" in this equation, and does so exceptionally. She has a real genuine sweetness to her, and a powerful voice that serves her songs well. Dave Smith is "Boy" and, while the character as written is a tad bland, Smith gives it an endearing goofyness that combines with his rockin' tenor to keep things rolling along nicely (plus he chucks in some ridiculous running at the end). Tim Stiles provides narration, audience bonding and all-round ridiculous hell-raising while also bringing the thunder from his vocal chords. Shell Tully similarly is strong in voice and in presence as the strip-club-owner-with-a-heart, Anita Davenport brings great righteous indignation and is not afraid to get ridiculous, particularly with the similarly-ridiculous-but-also-with-a-silly-accent Hayden Crosweller. And Will Huang grabs onto his chance to play grandly-deluded-rock-god-vanity superbly, with every ridiculously affected gesture producing delight and every musical yelp showing why, in the Canberra Musical Theatre Pantheon, there is only one Will Huang, and we are forever grateful.
Not all of the material and the direction is up to the quality of the performers. In particular, the script slightly starts gagging for air in the second act, as the complications that keep boy-and-girl apart are never particularly convincing, and, even worse, the song stack starts to fall into the deep cuts of rock-balladry. "High Enough" and "The Search is Over" are pretty obscure cuts and neither really get top-class staging here - they're both sung well but they're both staged pretty much as "stand and sing" exercises, which kinda makes you think back to the days when Groucho Marx would suggest the ballads are a good time to duck out and have a cigarette. The Act One finale is also pretty messy as action takes place in five separate areas of the stage but without any good focus towards where the interesting stuff is taking place at any one time.
Max Gambale's band is a tight-rocking outfit that also scores a few quality insults to yell out. Vanessa DeJaeger's costumes give a good sense of trashy-and-often-disturbing outfits with a good sense of period (okay, technically Stacee Jaxx's boots are not 80s, they're 70s, but dammit, they work on him anyway).
In general, this is a show where the performers widly outclass the material they have, but it is a good chance to see these very skilled performers be ridiculous, rocking and have general goofy fun.
The plot is your standard boy-meets-girl-boy-loses-girl-boy-gets-girl-again played against the background of LA's Sunset Strip in the mid-to-late-80s, and is servicable enough, most of the time. THe main attraction is the songs which are performed with all the energy appropriate to the era (including a well-choreographed bevy of dancers doing their best skanky writhing).
Emma McCormack plays "girl" in this equation, and does so exceptionally. She has a real genuine sweetness to her, and a powerful voice that serves her songs well. Dave Smith is "Boy" and, while the character as written is a tad bland, Smith gives it an endearing goofyness that combines with his rockin' tenor to keep things rolling along nicely (plus he chucks in some ridiculous running at the end). Tim Stiles provides narration, audience bonding and all-round ridiculous hell-raising while also bringing the thunder from his vocal chords. Shell Tully similarly is strong in voice and in presence as the strip-club-owner-with-a-heart, Anita Davenport brings great righteous indignation and is not afraid to get ridiculous, particularly with the similarly-ridiculous-but-also-with-a-silly-accent Hayden Crosweller. And Will Huang grabs onto his chance to play grandly-deluded-rock-god-vanity superbly, with every ridiculously affected gesture producing delight and every musical yelp showing why, in the Canberra Musical Theatre Pantheon, there is only one Will Huang, and we are forever grateful.
Not all of the material and the direction is up to the quality of the performers. In particular, the script slightly starts gagging for air in the second act, as the complications that keep boy-and-girl apart are never particularly convincing, and, even worse, the song stack starts to fall into the deep cuts of rock-balladry. "High Enough" and "The Search is Over" are pretty obscure cuts and neither really get top-class staging here - they're both sung well but they're both staged pretty much as "stand and sing" exercises, which kinda makes you think back to the days when Groucho Marx would suggest the ballads are a good time to duck out and have a cigarette. The Act One finale is also pretty messy as action takes place in five separate areas of the stage but without any good focus towards where the interesting stuff is taking place at any one time.
Max Gambale's band is a tight-rocking outfit that also scores a few quality insults to yell out. Vanessa DeJaeger's costumes give a good sense of trashy-and-often-disturbing outfits with a good sense of period (okay, technically Stacee Jaxx's boots are not 80s, they're 70s, but dammit, they work on him anyway).
In general, this is a show where the performers widly outclass the material they have, but it is a good chance to see these very skilled performers be ridiculous, rocking and have general goofy fun.
Friday, 26 February 2016
Threepenny Opera, Canberra Rep
In the 1990s, it was fashionable to say that Brecht was a historical relic. Brecht's brand of diadactic propaganda had, the theory went, gone with the dodo with the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of socialism.
Of course, socialism has been making a bit of a comeback recently (between Bernie Sanders in the US and Jeremy Corbyn in the UK), and capitalist society has not exactly been covering itself in glory, so it's probably time to give Brecht's biggest hit another look.
"Threepenny Opera" is not exactly the most fuzzy or friendly piece of theatre ever written - Weill's biggest song hit, Mack the Knife, is a ballad describing the activities of a murderer and a rapist in somewhat unflinching terms - and Rep's production plays very true to the source. This makes the evening a bit of a slow burn - in particular, the first act, where we see Macheath at his height, bullying his gang, having a distinctly unromantic wedding. There is a slight sense, too, that the first act is a bit effortful - that the cast hasn't yet loosened up and let the show play as freely as it might - it's a laborious setup - though Tina Robinson's fierce-as-hell "Pirate Jenny" is a notable highlight. But acts two and three pick up and fly, as the forces around Macheath begin to close in.
Kurt Weill is not really going for easy-listening music -these are songs full of atonalities and sharp notes and pervading tensions. And in many ways this is not particularly audience-friendly theatre - it's a long night, it's going to confront you with characters who are not at all likeable and present situations that are not easy to resolve. We aren't talking charming criminals and scampish neer-do-wells here, these are genuinely dangerous people who we would do well to fear. Even the intervals aren't exactly audience friendly - the cast invade the auditorium throughout, and with a fairly strict 10-minutes only, a fair chunk of audience members were caught coming while act two had already started running... But there are definitely rewards to giving yourself over to the production, not least in several of the performances.
Starting with Tim Sekuless' Macheath - this is a performance that is not looking for sympathy in any way, and can feel quite offputting early on, particularly in his bullying-act-one appearance. As he starts to get a run-up going, fleeing from pillar to pillar during act two, we get a better sense of him under the gun as he faces off against the various women in his life. And in act three's "call from the grave", the tension mounts and, while genuinely disliking him, we fear his imminent execution.
Tina Robinson's Polly Peachum captures both the outward sweetness and the inner demon of Macheath's bride, while Helen McFarlane brings both lustful heat and angry rage to the double-dealing Jenny Diver (plus an immaculate tango). Sian Harrington's Lucy had a singing voice that was slightly stretched to its limit in the vocalally-rangy "Barbara Song", but she matched energies with Robinson well in the Jealousy duet, and had great "drawn-to-and-simultaneously-enraged-by" attitude towards Macheath.
Peter Dark's natural height serves him well as the hypocritical Peachum, gleefully lording it over and imposing himself on various and sundry. Saralouise Owens has that great combination for a Brecht-Weill show of a fine soprano and a vicious guttural attack, and can land either with ease.
Jim Adamik again gets a chance to show why he's one of Canberra Theatre's finest clowns - his Tiger Brown manages to get impressively more ridiculous as he disintegrates further and further under his increasing pressures. Oliver Baudert provides a fine cameo as Reverend Kimball - befuddled but willing to go along with whatever's happening (including a surprise final combination), and Rob de Fries' Warder Smith is ever-ready to be smoothly corruptable. Dick Goldberg's Street Singer ties it together in perfect cynical style, narrating and giving the audience just the right amount of raised eyebrow.
Of the rest of the ensemble, particular mention should be made of Pippin Carrol and Dale Stam's legs during the chase sequence, which manage to be a running gag in their own right (yes, it's a bodgy pun, but it's an appropriate one), the sultry work of the ladies ensemble, and Daniel Ferri's (I presume natural) broad Chicago accent giving us great B-movie hoodlum.
Ewan's musical direction sees a band of nine and a cast of nineteen carry the show in fine style - particularly stirring during the group-singing finales, but throughout they carry the Theatre 3 stage without unnecessary amplification (having been deafened by the odd musical in my time, it's appreciated!) Quentin Mitchell's set has a strong epic sensibility, with most of the theatre exposed to the elements, but with some great odd-angles in set-pieces like the jail cell and the Peachum's door, feeling very Berlin-Twenties. Equally so Anna Senior's costumes frame the characters on the spectrum between bourgeoisie and lowlife (in particular, perhaps, Helen McFarlane's great 1920s wrap).
As noted - this is not the easiest of viewing, and there is certainly a hope that act one will play a little tighter later in the season. But it's impressive, epic work none the less, pure theatre in a way that we don't often get to see. Certainly worth the time and effort.
Of course, socialism has been making a bit of a comeback recently (between Bernie Sanders in the US and Jeremy Corbyn in the UK), and capitalist society has not exactly been covering itself in glory, so it's probably time to give Brecht's biggest hit another look.
"Threepenny Opera" is not exactly the most fuzzy or friendly piece of theatre ever written - Weill's biggest song hit, Mack the Knife, is a ballad describing the activities of a murderer and a rapist in somewhat unflinching terms - and Rep's production plays very true to the source. This makes the evening a bit of a slow burn - in particular, the first act, where we see Macheath at his height, bullying his gang, having a distinctly unromantic wedding. There is a slight sense, too, that the first act is a bit effortful - that the cast hasn't yet loosened up and let the show play as freely as it might - it's a laborious setup - though Tina Robinson's fierce-as-hell "Pirate Jenny" is a notable highlight. But acts two and three pick up and fly, as the forces around Macheath begin to close in.
Kurt Weill is not really going for easy-listening music -these are songs full of atonalities and sharp notes and pervading tensions. And in many ways this is not particularly audience-friendly theatre - it's a long night, it's going to confront you with characters who are not at all likeable and present situations that are not easy to resolve. We aren't talking charming criminals and scampish neer-do-wells here, these are genuinely dangerous people who we would do well to fear. Even the intervals aren't exactly audience friendly - the cast invade the auditorium throughout, and with a fairly strict 10-minutes only, a fair chunk of audience members were caught coming while act two had already started running... But there are definitely rewards to giving yourself over to the production, not least in several of the performances.
Starting with Tim Sekuless' Macheath - this is a performance that is not looking for sympathy in any way, and can feel quite offputting early on, particularly in his bullying-act-one appearance. As he starts to get a run-up going, fleeing from pillar to pillar during act two, we get a better sense of him under the gun as he faces off against the various women in his life. And in act three's "call from the grave", the tension mounts and, while genuinely disliking him, we fear his imminent execution.
Tina Robinson's Polly Peachum captures both the outward sweetness and the inner demon of Macheath's bride, while Helen McFarlane brings both lustful heat and angry rage to the double-dealing Jenny Diver (plus an immaculate tango). Sian Harrington's Lucy had a singing voice that was slightly stretched to its limit in the vocalally-rangy "Barbara Song", but she matched energies with Robinson well in the Jealousy duet, and had great "drawn-to-and-simultaneously-enraged-by" attitude towards Macheath.
Peter Dark's natural height serves him well as the hypocritical Peachum, gleefully lording it over and imposing himself on various and sundry. Saralouise Owens has that great combination for a Brecht-Weill show of a fine soprano and a vicious guttural attack, and can land either with ease.
Jim Adamik again gets a chance to show why he's one of Canberra Theatre's finest clowns - his Tiger Brown manages to get impressively more ridiculous as he disintegrates further and further under his increasing pressures. Oliver Baudert provides a fine cameo as Reverend Kimball - befuddled but willing to go along with whatever's happening (including a surprise final combination), and Rob de Fries' Warder Smith is ever-ready to be smoothly corruptable. Dick Goldberg's Street Singer ties it together in perfect cynical style, narrating and giving the audience just the right amount of raised eyebrow.
Of the rest of the ensemble, particular mention should be made of Pippin Carrol and Dale Stam's legs during the chase sequence, which manage to be a running gag in their own right (yes, it's a bodgy pun, but it's an appropriate one), the sultry work of the ladies ensemble, and Daniel Ferri's (I presume natural) broad Chicago accent giving us great B-movie hoodlum.
Ewan's musical direction sees a band of nine and a cast of nineteen carry the show in fine style - particularly stirring during the group-singing finales, but throughout they carry the Theatre 3 stage without unnecessary amplification (having been deafened by the odd musical in my time, it's appreciated!) Quentin Mitchell's set has a strong epic sensibility, with most of the theatre exposed to the elements, but with some great odd-angles in set-pieces like the jail cell and the Peachum's door, feeling very Berlin-Twenties. Equally so Anna Senior's costumes frame the characters on the spectrum between bourgeoisie and lowlife (in particular, perhaps, Helen McFarlane's great 1920s wrap).
As noted - this is not the easiest of viewing, and there is certainly a hope that act one will play a little tighter later in the season. But it's impressive, epic work none the less, pure theatre in a way that we don't often get to see. Certainly worth the time and effort.
Tuesday, 19 January 2016
Disney's Beauty and the Beast, Ickle Pickle, Belconnen Community Theatre
When Disney's animated film of "Beauty and the Beast" came out in 1991, it was proclaimed by the New York Times theatre critic to be the best musical of the year. The combination of Howard Ashman and Alan Mencken's iconic score and Linda Woolverton's screenplay gave the film a wide appeal. So it's not surprising that a stage version followed fairly quickly, with productions round the world. Ashman's passing meant that the additional songs had Tim Rice lyrics instead (Tim Rice is never a bad choice of alternate lyricist), but the fundamentals of the score and the script remained - a slowburning romance as a smart heroine warms the chilled heart of her not-so-ogre-ish captor.
Ickle Pickle's production captures much of the charm of the material - the Belconnen Community Theatre isn't the biggest stage and it's clearly being done on a smaller budget, but by and large this is a production that's made wise choices. Kaitlyn Nihill's Belle is our Disney Princess made flesh - perfectly pretty, smart, courageous and compassionate. Adam Salter's Beast builds in effect - initially not much more than a gruff growling presence, but as the story develops, the beastly facade drops away and we see his vulnerability and deep sorrow. The various household servants-turned-furniture are a highlight - Pip Carroll's uberFrench Lumiere is playful, lusty and ever-genial, Patrick Galen-Mules' Cogsworth is foppish, snobbish and thoroughly ridiculous in the best way possible, Bojana Kos is a flirty, witty delight as Babbette, and Amy Jenkins is warmly motherly as Mrs Potts. On the villianous side, Liam Jones has the buff buffoonery and brutal over-egotistical Gaston down to a T, and Lachlan Burke's toadyish Lefou is as close as a human being can be to becoming a cartoon character - his slapstick physicality is constantly delightful. Josh Kirk's D'ARque has to be pointed out as being incredibly sinister for his brief appearance onstage.
Jordan Best's direction captures all the highpoints - the humour is delightfully silly while the romance warms the heart. Steve Galinec and Anita Davenport's set is simple but effective in giving us grand storybook panoramas, while Mim Miley-Read's costumes are effective and clever (and in the climactic dance between Belle and Beast, hit that "just like the movie" spot effectively). If you're going to do your music through sequenced keyboards rather than by having an orchestra (and in the BElconnnen Community Theatre, squeezing an orchestra in is unlikely), Susan Davenport's arrangements are as effective as you're going to get, and she also gets strong voices out of her cast (although the sound mix early on is a little too heavy on the keyboards at the expense of the unmiked cast). Jodi Hammond gets good choreographic effects out of the cast - the all-in joy of "Gaston" and the climactic battle sequence being the highlights.
In short, this is highly effective theatre for anybody who likes a soulful romance mixed with some wild comedy and some iconic songs. There's still a few performances before this closes at the end of the week, so if you're wondering .. yep, it's definately worth the trip.
(Edit: Apologies to Kaitlin Nihill, whose first name was mistyped in an earlier version of this review!)
Ickle Pickle's production captures much of the charm of the material - the Belconnen Community Theatre isn't the biggest stage and it's clearly being done on a smaller budget, but by and large this is a production that's made wise choices. Kaitlyn Nihill's Belle is our Disney Princess made flesh - perfectly pretty, smart, courageous and compassionate. Adam Salter's Beast builds in effect - initially not much more than a gruff growling presence, but as the story develops, the beastly facade drops away and we see his vulnerability and deep sorrow. The various household servants-turned-furniture are a highlight - Pip Carroll's uberFrench Lumiere is playful, lusty and ever-genial, Patrick Galen-Mules' Cogsworth is foppish, snobbish and thoroughly ridiculous in the best way possible, Bojana Kos is a flirty, witty delight as Babbette, and Amy Jenkins is warmly motherly as Mrs Potts. On the villianous side, Liam Jones has the buff buffoonery and brutal over-egotistical Gaston down to a T, and Lachlan Burke's toadyish Lefou is as close as a human being can be to becoming a cartoon character - his slapstick physicality is constantly delightful. Josh Kirk's D'ARque has to be pointed out as being incredibly sinister for his brief appearance onstage.
Jordan Best's direction captures all the highpoints - the humour is delightfully silly while the romance warms the heart. Steve Galinec and Anita Davenport's set is simple but effective in giving us grand storybook panoramas, while Mim Miley-Read's costumes are effective and clever (and in the climactic dance between Belle and Beast, hit that "just like the movie" spot effectively). If you're going to do your music through sequenced keyboards rather than by having an orchestra (and in the BElconnnen Community Theatre, squeezing an orchestra in is unlikely), Susan Davenport's arrangements are as effective as you're going to get, and she also gets strong voices out of her cast (although the sound mix early on is a little too heavy on the keyboards at the expense of the unmiked cast). Jodi Hammond gets good choreographic effects out of the cast - the all-in joy of "Gaston" and the climactic battle sequence being the highlights.
In short, this is highly effective theatre for anybody who likes a soulful romance mixed with some wild comedy and some iconic songs. There's still a few performances before this closes at the end of the week, so if you're wondering .. yep, it's definately worth the trip.
(Edit: Apologies to Kaitlin Nihill, whose first name was mistyped in an earlier version of this review!)
Tuesday, 12 January 2016
Jasper Jones, Belvoir
Whatever else you can accuse Belvoir of, they always seem to bring things back home when they've got a family show to deliver. And this year's production of Craig Silvey's novel is more or less a family show (albiet ones with some fairly dark themes). It's a coming of age story as a young boy in a WA country town discovers the dark secrets of his elders and of the place around him - how prejudice and boredom and petty hatreds make a toxic cocktail.
I'll admit I haven't read the novel so I can only say that Kate Mulvaney's adaptation is clear, funny, tense and heartfelt. If it does meander a scene or two longer than it possibly needs to, that may be partially a choice of focus - the title of the show is "Jasper Jones", but the play (and presumably, novel) is very much about the narrator. THere is, I suppose, a bigger question about why a story whose main dramatic hook is a half-caste boy involved in a murder needs to be so much about the white boy who watches it, but ... well, Belvoir's got an indigenous adviser in on this, so hopefully they know what they're doing.
As the narrator, Tom Conroy delivers a bookish 14 year old to perfection - shy, over-thoughtful, embarassed and eventually brave. I honestly did not realise this was the same actor I'd seen in Mortido two months ago, and the stark difference suggests Conroy is really an actor to watch out for in the future. Guy Simon's Jasper is a little distant but has that firm inner strength and conveys multiple layers of feeling when he finally spills over into anger. Charles Wu's Jeffrey has a radiantly funny hopefullness that is rarely shattered even in adverse circumstances. Matilda Ridgeway's delivery as both of the Wishart sisters is nicely complex - Laura is largely a silent figure of menace while Eliza is enticing, awkward and with an inner strenght that plays through. Steve Rodgers has a good pair of cameos both as a kindly father and a mysterious outsider, and writer Mulvaney also scores both as Charlie's stern but bewhildered mum and as the bullying cricketer Warwick.
Anne-Louise Sarks scores strongly in this (I'm beginnning to suspect my problems with her previous works were that she was doing writing duties as well or developing someone else's script- she's a strong director as long as she has a strong basic text to work with, less so when she's not). Michael Hankin's set works like all the best belvoir sets in being both decorative and simple, and giving the actors plenty of room to play.
All in all this is a fine piece of theatre that I suspect Belvoir will be looking to tour whenever possible - it's appealing, thoughtful and smartly specific.
I'll admit I haven't read the novel so I can only say that Kate Mulvaney's adaptation is clear, funny, tense and heartfelt. If it does meander a scene or two longer than it possibly needs to, that may be partially a choice of focus - the title of the show is "Jasper Jones", but the play (and presumably, novel) is very much about the narrator. THere is, I suppose, a bigger question about why a story whose main dramatic hook is a half-caste boy involved in a murder needs to be so much about the white boy who watches it, but ... well, Belvoir's got an indigenous adviser in on this, so hopefully they know what they're doing.
As the narrator, Tom Conroy delivers a bookish 14 year old to perfection - shy, over-thoughtful, embarassed and eventually brave. I honestly did not realise this was the same actor I'd seen in Mortido two months ago, and the stark difference suggests Conroy is really an actor to watch out for in the future. Guy Simon's Jasper is a little distant but has that firm inner strength and conveys multiple layers of feeling when he finally spills over into anger. Charles Wu's Jeffrey has a radiantly funny hopefullness that is rarely shattered even in adverse circumstances. Matilda Ridgeway's delivery as both of the Wishart sisters is nicely complex - Laura is largely a silent figure of menace while Eliza is enticing, awkward and with an inner strenght that plays through. Steve Rodgers has a good pair of cameos both as a kindly father and a mysterious outsider, and writer Mulvaney also scores both as Charlie's stern but bewhildered mum and as the bullying cricketer Warwick.
Anne-Louise Sarks scores strongly in this (I'm beginnning to suspect my problems with her previous works were that she was doing writing duties as well or developing someone else's script- she's a strong director as long as she has a strong basic text to work with, less so when she's not). Michael Hankin's set works like all the best belvoir sets in being both decorative and simple, and giving the actors plenty of room to play.
All in all this is a fine piece of theatre that I suspect Belvoir will be looking to tour whenever possible - it's appealing, thoughtful and smartly specific.
The Magic Flute, Opera Australia, Sydney Opera House
Mozart's last opera is one of the permanent favourites of the repertoire. And it features some radiant tunes (in particular the ever-popular and ultra-challenging Queen of the Night aria). It also features a plot, which is where things get a little wobblier - it's a loosely written adventure epic where goodies and baddies switch places pretty much at random, the hero basically waits for other people to do stuff for him most of the time, and the villian's comeuppance is utterly a deux ex machina.
Julie Taymor's production takes all that and gives it an epic shine. A big perspex set of various geometric shapes and arcane symbols, with the various creatures in the plot represented by giant puppets. Even as the plot is making your eyes roll, the visuals are making you agog with wonder.
John Longmuir's Tamino is suitably stolid and heroic and does the heroic tenor thing which is to seem nice, heroic and possibly a little dim, but never the less handsome. Taryn Fiebig may be too good an actress for Pamina, paridoxically - her character is manipulated repeatedly and put through hell and you feel for her, to the point where you wish she wouldn't just accept everything at the end. Samuel Dundas' Papageno is fun and strange in the scene-stealing comic relief way, and manages to play well with an unexpected audience interruption (part of the risk of kids matinees - the kids start advising you if they get over invested!). Hannah Dahlenberg has both the trickiest aria of the night and the trickiest headgear, and pulls both off with aplomb. Benjamin Rasheed is pure panto villain as the unsubtly named "Monstratos".
I'll admit, this was my first go at opera live and in person (I've seen the occasional one on TV, but otherwise my musical education is pretty much musicals). And it's an odd one to kick off with, but never the less, was a suitable feast for the eyes and ears (even if it occasionally left the brain a tad bemused).
Julie Taymor's production takes all that and gives it an epic shine. A big perspex set of various geometric shapes and arcane symbols, with the various creatures in the plot represented by giant puppets. Even as the plot is making your eyes roll, the visuals are making you agog with wonder.
John Longmuir's Tamino is suitably stolid and heroic and does the heroic tenor thing which is to seem nice, heroic and possibly a little dim, but never the less handsome. Taryn Fiebig may be too good an actress for Pamina, paridoxically - her character is manipulated repeatedly and put through hell and you feel for her, to the point where you wish she wouldn't just accept everything at the end. Samuel Dundas' Papageno is fun and strange in the scene-stealing comic relief way, and manages to play well with an unexpected audience interruption (part of the risk of kids matinees - the kids start advising you if they get over invested!). Hannah Dahlenberg has both the trickiest aria of the night and the trickiest headgear, and pulls both off with aplomb. Benjamin Rasheed is pure panto villain as the unsubtly named "Monstratos".
I'll admit, this was my first go at opera live and in person (I've seen the occasional one on TV, but otherwise my musical education is pretty much musicals). And it's an odd one to kick off with, but never the less, was a suitable feast for the eyes and ears (even if it occasionally left the brain a tad bemused).
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