Acrobatics and erotica have a reasonable amount in common. They're both about showing off the body and what it can do in various ways, and generally benefit when the performers wear skimpy, form-fitting clothing. Le Noir combines elements of both into an intimate cabaret evening that grandly displays 11 separate acts showing off various types of acrobatic manouverings in a framework that plays up some of the erotic potential of these acts.
Divided into three sections, basically distinguishable by the cast's dress-code, "Blanc", "Rouge" and "Noir" (the transition between "Blanc" and "Rouge" is nicely sudden and grand, the transition between "Rouge" and "Noir" is over interval), the show uses a smallish stage in the middle of the Canberra theatre stage, surrounds it with an on-stage audience, and on a level of pure spectacle, it frequently astounds. It is, inevitably, still a variety show, so some acts are stronger than others (and some fit the theme better than others - in particular, the duo acts show various types of couplings entertainingly - the Trapeze, perhaps, plays this best by giving the coupling a teasing push-me-pull-you attitude - and there is something slightly problematic in that, in order to achieve the various acrobatic poses, performers inevitably wind up having to stomp on one another's crotches occasionally). The pairs are nearly all boy-girl, making this a fairly hetro-normative evening (the only pair that isn't boy-girl is the act-one-closer "strong-men" piece, which plays more as two men showing off their form for the audience than anything with a romantic-angle between the two performers).
A couple of the solo acts aren't really particularly eroticised - however the Cyr Wheel and Shape Spinning sections have performers showing pure joy at the delights of showing off what they can do with a simple piece of equipment, and the Rolla-bolla lets the performer adopt the persona of a muscular mechanic himbo being teased by the supporting dancers into performing more and more dangerous stunts to impress them.
The MC's sections, entirely in french, have very little to do with erotica at all and a lot to do with exploiting audience participation and breaking up the evening, which they do pretty effectively in a lightly fun way.
Lighting and sound are occasionally a little overwhelming (lights enjoying blinding the audience with lights in the eyes every so often, and sound amped up pretty loud, with an onstage DJ giving it full doof-doof quality), I also don't know how the fairly intimate performances look from up in the fairly distant seats of the back of the canberra theatre (I was seated relatively close up) and worry that the venue may be a little large for what is, ultimately, acrobatic cabaret.
I don't want to be too hard on this, it is frequently a very entertaining, stylish evening, with acrobatic performers doing spectacular things with precision, and with a nice overlay of production value. If it doesn't re-invent the form, it isn't necessarily trying to. I think there is room to expand, though, with a bit more thematic coherence and, perhaps, a wider range of erotic potential than is currently on display.
Friday, 8 May 2015
Saturday, 2 May 2015
The Crucible, Canberra Rep
It's been a while since I've unashamedly loved a show at Rep as much as I've loved this one. So the tradition applies - go buy your tickets now, then come back at your leisure and read this. This is a production that you will hate yourself for missing. So don't miss it. Book now.
And now that you've booked, let's talk about the show. Arthur Miller's play is, of course, a recognised classic and a regular school text, but it's also a living theatrical piece that needs skilled performers and tight direction. In this production, it gets it.
Michael Sparks' set covers the wide Theatre 3 stage with trees made of rope, indicating the puritan's fear of the natural world where, as the play begins, young girls have been cavorting in the woods, and also the tangled webs that have been weaved by old rivalries between the people of Salem. A central clearing is the main playing area, with all scenes represented by various arrangements of four white benches. This stark design focusses the play marvelously on the story and the acting - it takes a lotta work to look this simple. Kelly McGannon's lighting compliments this well - giving the woods a darkly shadowy presence while giving the downstage area the warmth of a home or the coldness of a courtroom.
Populating the scene is a cast of extraordinary depth. Leading the way is Duncan Ley. I've said previously he's one of Canberra's finest actors. And now that he's leaving Canberra (this is his farewell performance on the Canberra stage), he's leaving with a performance that will stick in the mind for quite a while. His Proctor starts cynical, smart-alecky, moody and blunt. But we start to see different sides to him - a man with passions, affection for his wife, longings for the sensual temptation of Abigail, and riven with guilt by his actions - and trying desperately to do the right thing in the face of horrendous circumstances. Lexi Sekuless matches him, showing a gentle, kind woman who's renegotiating second-by-second how far she can forgive her husband's transgressions and balance the love she has and the betrayal she feels. You never doubt, though, the love and affection that sits inside her. Zoe Priest's Abigail Williams is a bloody marvel. She's a ruthless force of nature - one of her early lines talks about seeing her parent's heads bashed in by Indians, and you get the feeling she's determined that next time, she'll be the one holding the hammer. Intense, driven, vengeful, mercurial and just plain dangerous, it's a performance that will long stick in the memory.
Elsewhere in the cast, Duncan Driver applies his formidable intellect to the role of the overly-arrogant Hale - as the scales fall from his eyes and he begins to see how deluded he has been, it is a marvel to watch. David Bennett's Giles Corey has some of the moments of humour of the show and makes them count, managing to be both genial and massively argumentative at the same time. Yanina Clifton's Mary Warren has a great mix of meek submission and bravery followed by complete mental disintegration. Mark Bunnett's Danforth is thoroughly, despicably devoted to his mistaken sense of duty, and to sticking to the bureaucratic technicalities of law rather than letting any slivers of humanity slide through. Adam Salter's Reverend Parris, too, delivers foolish pride and arrogance followed by desperation as he realises how wrong he has been and how hard the backlash to his actions will be. Elaine Noon's pitiless Ann Putnam is convincingly, painfully bitter from her losses, and Paul Jackson's Thomas Putnam has a wonderfully awful rich, entitled air as he takes advantage of the awful situation.
Jordan Best co-ordinates this all with precision - her blocking of the group of girls in particular makes them a solid, terrifying unit falling in lockstep behind Abigail - but there's great understanding of space, of where the connections between characters should register and where they will fail. She ensures that we're passionately engaged in this life and death struggle for characters to retain their integrity and honour in awful circumstances.
I cannot speak highly enough of this production. It's strong, impressive work that should be seen, contemplated and hailed.
And now that you've booked, let's talk about the show. Arthur Miller's play is, of course, a recognised classic and a regular school text, but it's also a living theatrical piece that needs skilled performers and tight direction. In this production, it gets it.
Michael Sparks' set covers the wide Theatre 3 stage with trees made of rope, indicating the puritan's fear of the natural world where, as the play begins, young girls have been cavorting in the woods, and also the tangled webs that have been weaved by old rivalries between the people of Salem. A central clearing is the main playing area, with all scenes represented by various arrangements of four white benches. This stark design focusses the play marvelously on the story and the acting - it takes a lotta work to look this simple. Kelly McGannon's lighting compliments this well - giving the woods a darkly shadowy presence while giving the downstage area the warmth of a home or the coldness of a courtroom.
Populating the scene is a cast of extraordinary depth. Leading the way is Duncan Ley. I've said previously he's one of Canberra's finest actors. And now that he's leaving Canberra (this is his farewell performance on the Canberra stage), he's leaving with a performance that will stick in the mind for quite a while. His Proctor starts cynical, smart-alecky, moody and blunt. But we start to see different sides to him - a man with passions, affection for his wife, longings for the sensual temptation of Abigail, and riven with guilt by his actions - and trying desperately to do the right thing in the face of horrendous circumstances. Lexi Sekuless matches him, showing a gentle, kind woman who's renegotiating second-by-second how far she can forgive her husband's transgressions and balance the love she has and the betrayal she feels. You never doubt, though, the love and affection that sits inside her. Zoe Priest's Abigail Williams is a bloody marvel. She's a ruthless force of nature - one of her early lines talks about seeing her parent's heads bashed in by Indians, and you get the feeling she's determined that next time, she'll be the one holding the hammer. Intense, driven, vengeful, mercurial and just plain dangerous, it's a performance that will long stick in the memory.
Elsewhere in the cast, Duncan Driver applies his formidable intellect to the role of the overly-arrogant Hale - as the scales fall from his eyes and he begins to see how deluded he has been, it is a marvel to watch. David Bennett's Giles Corey has some of the moments of humour of the show and makes them count, managing to be both genial and massively argumentative at the same time. Yanina Clifton's Mary Warren has a great mix of meek submission and bravery followed by complete mental disintegration. Mark Bunnett's Danforth is thoroughly, despicably devoted to his mistaken sense of duty, and to sticking to the bureaucratic technicalities of law rather than letting any slivers of humanity slide through. Adam Salter's Reverend Parris, too, delivers foolish pride and arrogance followed by desperation as he realises how wrong he has been and how hard the backlash to his actions will be. Elaine Noon's pitiless Ann Putnam is convincingly, painfully bitter from her losses, and Paul Jackson's Thomas Putnam has a wonderfully awful rich, entitled air as he takes advantage of the awful situation.
Jordan Best co-ordinates this all with precision - her blocking of the group of girls in particular makes them a solid, terrifying unit falling in lockstep behind Abigail - but there's great understanding of space, of where the connections between characters should register and where they will fail. She ensures that we're passionately engaged in this life and death struggle for characters to retain their integrity and honour in awful circumstances.
I cannot speak highly enough of this production. It's strong, impressive work that should be seen, contemplated and hailed.
Saturday, 25 April 2015
Monkey: journey to the west. Theatre of Image, Canberra Theatre
Generation X grew up with Monkey, The Goodies and Doctor Who. The Goodies did a live tour a couple of years ago, and Doctor Who made a comeback about a decade ago ... and now it's the turn of Monkey.
Of course, it's not quite the same - given Monkey was based on a 16th century Chinese novel, it's out of copyright enough that it can be adapted without having to pay much heed to the 70's version -and indeed, apart from publicity referencing "Monkey Magic" (which was never the name of the show ... and I know this is my hang up on accuracy, but it still annoys me). Still, the primary quartet of Monkey, Tripitaka, Pigsy and Sandy are all present and accounted for, dutifully engaged in a quest westwards to retrieve sacred scrolls from India.
There's some lovely attractive design here from Kim Carpenter (creator, co-director and designer), with puppetry small and large, projections and some rich costuming to present the various strange creatures encountered along the way. And the four lead performances are consistently strong - Aijin Abella is impish, active and loveable as Monkey, Darren Gilshenan's Pigsy is a perfectly grotesque disgusting slob, Justin Smith's Sandy has a blissed-out-Nimbin Hippy-vibe, and Aileen Huynh's Tripitaka is the perfect straight-man to them all. Scott Witt's movement makes the numerous fights entertainingly gymnastic, and the supporting cast perform various roles (and occasional scenery) with aplomb.
If it isn't perfect it's slightly that the plot is a tad repetetitve (basically, the four are threatened by a demon, they fight it off, they meet another one... then they get to india and the show wraps up rather suddenly). The background music is delightful, but the songs are slightly less so - they don't quite have the sense of fun of the rest of the show, and don't have the virtue otherwise of acting as a reflective thematic break in otherwise frantic action. There isn't a lot of depth here, but as spectacle and as an entertainment, it hits several right buttons. The ticket price is also pretty darn reasonable for a touring pro production ($45 for adults). So worth watching with expectations suitably modified.
Of course, it's not quite the same - given Monkey was based on a 16th century Chinese novel, it's out of copyright enough that it can be adapted without having to pay much heed to the 70's version -and indeed, apart from publicity referencing "Monkey Magic" (which was never the name of the show ... and I know this is my hang up on accuracy, but it still annoys me). Still, the primary quartet of Monkey, Tripitaka, Pigsy and Sandy are all present and accounted for, dutifully engaged in a quest westwards to retrieve sacred scrolls from India.
There's some lovely attractive design here from Kim Carpenter (creator, co-director and designer), with puppetry small and large, projections and some rich costuming to present the various strange creatures encountered along the way. And the four lead performances are consistently strong - Aijin Abella is impish, active and loveable as Monkey, Darren Gilshenan's Pigsy is a perfectly grotesque disgusting slob, Justin Smith's Sandy has a blissed-out-Nimbin Hippy-vibe, and Aileen Huynh's Tripitaka is the perfect straight-man to them all. Scott Witt's movement makes the numerous fights entertainingly gymnastic, and the supporting cast perform various roles (and occasional scenery) with aplomb.
If it isn't perfect it's slightly that the plot is a tad repetetitve (basically, the four are threatened by a demon, they fight it off, they meet another one... then they get to india and the show wraps up rather suddenly). The background music is delightful, but the songs are slightly less so - they don't quite have the sense of fun of the rest of the show, and don't have the virtue otherwise of acting as a reflective thematic break in otherwise frantic action. There isn't a lot of depth here, but as spectacle and as an entertainment, it hits several right buttons. The ticket price is also pretty darn reasonable for a touring pro production ($45 for adults). So worth watching with expectations suitably modified.
Friday, 27 March 2015
Elektra/Orestes, Belvoir
Belvoir's back in the Greeks, revisiting one of the major tragedies in a new adaptation. Unfortunately, this is a deeply middling production with a few problems. The central device, that we see the action twice, once from the perspective of the dining room, and once from the perspective of the kitchen, seems like it should help, but frequently we don't get any development from the new angle - in particular, there's a long sequence in the second half where Orestes is hiding in the cupboard where we just get to hear the same dialogue through the door. There's also a critical failure in staging - when your play is largely built upon two acts of killing, having the first one of those acts performed in front of a mirror that makes it blatantly obvious that Orestes' knife is not actually going anywhere near Aegisthus means that the audience engagement is broken.
There's also a general problem that this feels very surface level - it's rare that we get a deeper sense of any of the characters and why they're doing what they're doing. Katherine Tonkin's Elektra probably survives best - the character with the clearest sense of what they're doing and how they're feeling, she's sullen, contradictory, in some ways a spoiled brat, but, and this is the important point, understandable. She's the one character on stage with a clear line in what she wants, and an idea in how she's going to achieve it.
Hunter Page-Lochard as Orestes has one point where we get a sense of where an interesting story may have been - when he reminds us he was 11 when he was sent into exile- but all too often he's used simply as a brooding prescence rather than anything rounded or developed. There is vengeance to be had, he is the one who will deliver that vengeance.
Linda Cropper's Klytemenestra also has her moments as she attempts to reach out to both of her vengeful children, but it's never really allowed to get very far - we never get the sense that her reaching is anything other than futile, which means all she's doing is beating a dead horse.
Ben Winspear's Aegisthus is nicely sleazy but, again, there's not a lot for him to play so he's killing time until he gets stabgbed. Ursula Mills' Khyrosothemis plays almost the straight person here, and may, possibly, have been able to provide an intersting perspective on the action, if she ever had anything to do, but ... again, she really doesn't.
This is only an hour long, but, as mentioned ... there just isn't a lot to fill that hour. These are taleneted performers, and there's some moments that look like they'll work ... but eventually, this is just kinda empty.
There's also a general problem that this feels very surface level - it's rare that we get a deeper sense of any of the characters and why they're doing what they're doing. Katherine Tonkin's Elektra probably survives best - the character with the clearest sense of what they're doing and how they're feeling, she's sullen, contradictory, in some ways a spoiled brat, but, and this is the important point, understandable. She's the one character on stage with a clear line in what she wants, and an idea in how she's going to achieve it.
Hunter Page-Lochard as Orestes has one point where we get a sense of where an interesting story may have been - when he reminds us he was 11 when he was sent into exile- but all too often he's used simply as a brooding prescence rather than anything rounded or developed. There is vengeance to be had, he is the one who will deliver that vengeance.
Linda Cropper's Klytemenestra also has her moments as she attempts to reach out to both of her vengeful children, but it's never really allowed to get very far - we never get the sense that her reaching is anything other than futile, which means all she's doing is beating a dead horse.
Ben Winspear's Aegisthus is nicely sleazy but, again, there's not a lot for him to play so he's killing time until he gets stabgbed. Ursula Mills' Khyrosothemis plays almost the straight person here, and may, possibly, have been able to provide an intersting perspective on the action, if she ever had anything to do, but ... again, she really doesn't.
This is only an hour long, but, as mentioned ... there just isn't a lot to fill that hour. These are taleneted performers, and there's some moments that look like they'll work ... but eventually, this is just kinda empty.
Man of La Mancha, Squabblogic, Seymour Centre
First of all - yes, I'm aware two musicals opened in Canberra and I haven't reviewed them. And I probably won't - I didn't see "Evita" (I'm familiar enough with the show to know I don't need to see it again) and it's unlikely I'll see "Mary Poppins" (ticket prices and I'm a bit "ugh, children").
So why did I go to Sydney to see a 50 year old musical with one ubiquitous hit song ("The Impossible Dream")? Well, there's a few reasons. First of all, playing the lead is Tony Sheldon, who's recently had an overnight success on Broadway after some 40 odd years on Australian stages (getting a best supporting actor in a musical nomination for the Tony awards for "Priscilla Queen of the Desert"). Secondly, Squabblogic has gone from strength to strength since I saw their "Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson" last year, including a highly successful run of "The Drowsy Chaperone". And thirdly ... this is a show my dad kinda loved and I'd never seen, though I'd heard the two-LP London version with Keith Michell and loved the Spanish-rhythmed title song.
It's an odd-duck of a show, with a couple of nesting loops of reality. We start in a prision in Inquisition-era Spain, where Cervantes and his servant are sent awaiting trial. As the various other prisoners fall on him to divide his meagre posessions, Cerventes defends himself by telling a story - the story of Don Quixote, which he proceeds to have the prisoners help him re-enact. And Don Quixote in turn is a deluded knight-errant who has a tendency to reassign people's identities at will - the local inkeeper becomes lord of a castle, and his tavern wench Aldonza becomes the fair maiden Dulcinea. Navigating all of these and keeping the show flowing is done with aplomb - this is a musical that begins without music, and the eruption of the title song about ten minutes in, as Cervantes establishes his story and persuades the prisoners to beat out a rhythm that suddenly bursts out into grand heroic song, is irresistibly persuasive.
It's also an odd duck in that it's a presentation of romantic fantasy with a clear eye of the perils of having those fantasies. Sheldon is key to this, his performance(s) split nicely between a brisk, spry Cervantes as narrator and a doddering, foolish but heartfelt Don Quixote. His Quixote is endearing and his delivery of "The Impossible Dream" seems to emphasise the word "Impossible" while also capturing the powerful yearning and the heroism that lies in having desires far beyond what realism would tell you is acheivable.
Marika Aubrey plays opposite him as Aldonza, the aforementioned tavern wench. Her rough-as-guts introduction song, "It's all the same" introduces her as bitter, angry and posessed with a killer voice that ranges from low guttral resentments to glorious soprano. And her softening to Quixote is gradual and hardwon - we are with her all the way as she is drawn in. Ross Chisari's Sancho is possibly one of the weaker aspects - he's a little too clowny (although in his "outside" role as Cervantes servant, he's nicely subdued), although part of this may be the nature of his material - his biggest song, "I Like Him" doesn't really have anything to give us after the title, and therefore goofing around the set may be the best bet to fill the time.
There is some clever cross-gender casting going on (Joanna Weinberg playing Doctor Carasco/The Duke with cynicism and delightful snobbery, while Stephen Anderson as the housekeeper sopranos well in "I'm Only Thinking of Him" - a sequence that stands out as being particularly strong, formal staging after the rough-and-tumble, more organic staging of the rest of the show.
In short, this is a delight to catch, strong performers in a classic that captures the eye, ear and heart.
So why did I go to Sydney to see a 50 year old musical with one ubiquitous hit song ("The Impossible Dream")? Well, there's a few reasons. First of all, playing the lead is Tony Sheldon, who's recently had an overnight success on Broadway after some 40 odd years on Australian stages (getting a best supporting actor in a musical nomination for the Tony awards for "Priscilla Queen of the Desert"). Secondly, Squabblogic has gone from strength to strength since I saw their "Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson" last year, including a highly successful run of "The Drowsy Chaperone". And thirdly ... this is a show my dad kinda loved and I'd never seen, though I'd heard the two-LP London version with Keith Michell and loved the Spanish-rhythmed title song.
It's an odd-duck of a show, with a couple of nesting loops of reality. We start in a prision in Inquisition-era Spain, where Cervantes and his servant are sent awaiting trial. As the various other prisoners fall on him to divide his meagre posessions, Cerventes defends himself by telling a story - the story of Don Quixote, which he proceeds to have the prisoners help him re-enact. And Don Quixote in turn is a deluded knight-errant who has a tendency to reassign people's identities at will - the local inkeeper becomes lord of a castle, and his tavern wench Aldonza becomes the fair maiden Dulcinea. Navigating all of these and keeping the show flowing is done with aplomb - this is a musical that begins without music, and the eruption of the title song about ten minutes in, as Cervantes establishes his story and persuades the prisoners to beat out a rhythm that suddenly bursts out into grand heroic song, is irresistibly persuasive.
It's also an odd duck in that it's a presentation of romantic fantasy with a clear eye of the perils of having those fantasies. Sheldon is key to this, his performance(s) split nicely between a brisk, spry Cervantes as narrator and a doddering, foolish but heartfelt Don Quixote. His Quixote is endearing and his delivery of "The Impossible Dream" seems to emphasise the word "Impossible" while also capturing the powerful yearning and the heroism that lies in having desires far beyond what realism would tell you is acheivable.
Marika Aubrey plays opposite him as Aldonza, the aforementioned tavern wench. Her rough-as-guts introduction song, "It's all the same" introduces her as bitter, angry and posessed with a killer voice that ranges from low guttral resentments to glorious soprano. And her softening to Quixote is gradual and hardwon - we are with her all the way as she is drawn in. Ross Chisari's Sancho is possibly one of the weaker aspects - he's a little too clowny (although in his "outside" role as Cervantes servant, he's nicely subdued), although part of this may be the nature of his material - his biggest song, "I Like Him" doesn't really have anything to give us after the title, and therefore goofing around the set may be the best bet to fill the time.
There is some clever cross-gender casting going on (Joanna Weinberg playing Doctor Carasco/The Duke with cynicism and delightful snobbery, while Stephen Anderson as the housekeeper sopranos well in "I'm Only Thinking of Him" - a sequence that stands out as being particularly strong, formal staging after the rough-and-tumble, more organic staging of the rest of the show.
In short, this is a delight to catch, strong performers in a classic that captures the eye, ear and heart.
Friday, 20 February 2015
The Importance of being Earnest, Canberra Rep, Theatre 3
Wilde's purest comedy is a marvel of a play, with jokes that sound just as fresh the twentieth time you hear them and a plot that keeps momentum all the way to the final curtain. Canberra Rep's production is quite a creditable effort - no, it isn't perfect, but there's some great stuff in here that's worth watching.
Let's start with Miles Thompson's Algernon, as he kicks off the action. Thoroughly charming, devious, rakish, impish and, eventually, when all else fails, sincerely romantic, he hits his bon-mots perfectly into the audience with a playful charm. John Brennan's Jack starts with the sincerity, and plays a largely straight-bat (with one delightful moment in Act three where he breaks his cool hilariously) - if he's a little stiff, that's largely the character at work - Jack has a bit of a stick up his butt, and Brennan makes sure it's not too irritating. Karen Vickery's Lady Bracknell gives the snobbish gorgon full reign and dominates whenever she's on-stage to delightful effect. Kayleih Brewster's Gwendolen has a nicely blase charm to her, with a slight sense that Gwendolen is intensely appreciative of her own good looks. Jordan Best's Miss Prism is hysterically funny, full of censorious worry and only-very-slightly-concealed-desperate passions. Jessica Symonds' Cecily has a bouncy youthful charm and confidence that brings great dividends as she leads Algernon through her diary. Mark Bunnett's Chasuble has the proper clerical bearing and is delightfully ridiculous. And Michael Miller's eyebrows do a lot of very fine work as Merriman as he is increasingly astonished by the odd behaviours around him.
Michael Sparks' set design has a nicely classical style, although some of the decorations are not necessarily applied as well as they might be (in particular, there's a mishung painting in act three), and the scene change between act two and act three is mishandled (it's a combination of a longish delay before the lights come up at the end of act one, a rather dull Gilbert and Sullivan ballad being used to manage the transition (there are much brighter songs used elsewhere in the pre-show and intermission, and they may work better to cover the gap) as well as the design itself) - framing the piece with an old-style curtain and footlights. Heather Spong's costumes capture a nice sense of period and add to the delighfully excessive artificiality of the proceedings.
This isn't a perfect production - there are one or two points where the pace meanders a little - but it's still a delightful parfait of an evening and a good launch into 2015 for Rep.
Let's start with Miles Thompson's Algernon, as he kicks off the action. Thoroughly charming, devious, rakish, impish and, eventually, when all else fails, sincerely romantic, he hits his bon-mots perfectly into the audience with a playful charm. John Brennan's Jack starts with the sincerity, and plays a largely straight-bat (with one delightful moment in Act three where he breaks his cool hilariously) - if he's a little stiff, that's largely the character at work - Jack has a bit of a stick up his butt, and Brennan makes sure it's not too irritating. Karen Vickery's Lady Bracknell gives the snobbish gorgon full reign and dominates whenever she's on-stage to delightful effect. Kayleih Brewster's Gwendolen has a nicely blase charm to her, with a slight sense that Gwendolen is intensely appreciative of her own good looks. Jordan Best's Miss Prism is hysterically funny, full of censorious worry and only-very-slightly-concealed-desperate passions. Jessica Symonds' Cecily has a bouncy youthful charm and confidence that brings great dividends as she leads Algernon through her diary. Mark Bunnett's Chasuble has the proper clerical bearing and is delightfully ridiculous. And Michael Miller's eyebrows do a lot of very fine work as Merriman as he is increasingly astonished by the odd behaviours around him.
Michael Sparks' set design has a nicely classical style, although some of the decorations are not necessarily applied as well as they might be (in particular, there's a mishung painting in act three), and the scene change between act two and act three is mishandled (it's a combination of a longish delay before the lights come up at the end of act one, a rather dull Gilbert and Sullivan ballad being used to manage the transition (there are much brighter songs used elsewhere in the pre-show and intermission, and they may work better to cover the gap) as well as the design itself) - framing the piece with an old-style curtain and footlights. Heather Spong's costumes capture a nice sense of period and add to the delighfully excessive artificiality of the proceedings.
This isn't a perfect production - there are one or two points where the pace meanders a little - but it's still a delightful parfait of an evening and a good launch into 2015 for Rep.
Wednesday, 18 February 2015
Sweet Charity, Canberra Theatre
It's been promo-ed to death all over town, and it's received Helpmann awards up the wazoo. So the question is - what's the actual show like?
Well, it's still "Sweet Charity" - which means that it's a bit of an odd show, from that period in the sixties where the counter-culture was knocking at the door and Broadway was simultaneously gazing longingly in its direction as somewhere where the cultural heat and passion was going, and dismissing it all as silly kids stuff. So there's some strange tonal stuff where it's not quite clear how seriously we're meant to take all this - Charity is simultaneously a figure of fun and a figure of pathos, her workplace at the Fandango Ballroom is both a place of horror (her declaration "this is not a nice place" is particularly heartrending in this version) and a sweet fun place where everyone can have a glorious singalong to "I Love to Cry At Weddings". It isn't quite a show that works for me in a modern context - it's too keen to slap down Charity's hopes and dreams repeatedly to really be the fun frolic that the show frequently thinks it is.
I should mention I was up in the back of the stalls on this, so there may have been greater empathy from being closer to the action. But up in the far distance, it felt distinctly unpleasant to see this poor girl go through repeated pain. Cy Coleman's music is a great mix of jazz and ballady tunes, with Dorothy Fields providing caustic, sharp, consice lyrics, and Neil Simon's one-liners are freuqently witty, but there's a big hole at the heart of this that means I can't really call this an exercise I enjoyed.
There are moments in the staging that work very well, of course - In particular, the modern-art-inspired "Rich Man's Frug", and the decision to play the final scene on a stripped-bare stage (with even the on-stage band exiting) - and it's a skilled cast and ensemble (although the two cases where the band members sing are awkward - both have diction problems meaning that quality lyrics are lost). But I think stripping this to a simpler staging may have exposed some of the flaws in the show more than a more elaborate staging may have got away with - playing it for reals means that the places where the material is blatantly fraudulent stick out more.
I'm also not in love with the new orchestrations - the highly keyboardy-sounding version of the score doesn't entirely suit particularly well - while the band plays them well, it's not a sound I like particularly. So all in all, this is a well-executed example of something I just don't like very much.
Well, it's still "Sweet Charity" - which means that it's a bit of an odd show, from that period in the sixties where the counter-culture was knocking at the door and Broadway was simultaneously gazing longingly in its direction as somewhere where the cultural heat and passion was going, and dismissing it all as silly kids stuff. So there's some strange tonal stuff where it's not quite clear how seriously we're meant to take all this - Charity is simultaneously a figure of fun and a figure of pathos, her workplace at the Fandango Ballroom is both a place of horror (her declaration "this is not a nice place" is particularly heartrending in this version) and a sweet fun place where everyone can have a glorious singalong to "I Love to Cry At Weddings". It isn't quite a show that works for me in a modern context - it's too keen to slap down Charity's hopes and dreams repeatedly to really be the fun frolic that the show frequently thinks it is.
I should mention I was up in the back of the stalls on this, so there may have been greater empathy from being closer to the action. But up in the far distance, it felt distinctly unpleasant to see this poor girl go through repeated pain. Cy Coleman's music is a great mix of jazz and ballady tunes, with Dorothy Fields providing caustic, sharp, consice lyrics, and Neil Simon's one-liners are freuqently witty, but there's a big hole at the heart of this that means I can't really call this an exercise I enjoyed.
There are moments in the staging that work very well, of course - In particular, the modern-art-inspired "Rich Man's Frug", and the decision to play the final scene on a stripped-bare stage (with even the on-stage band exiting) - and it's a skilled cast and ensemble (although the two cases where the band members sing are awkward - both have diction problems meaning that quality lyrics are lost). But I think stripping this to a simpler staging may have exposed some of the flaws in the show more than a more elaborate staging may have got away with - playing it for reals means that the places where the material is blatantly fraudulent stick out more.
I'm also not in love with the new orchestrations - the highly keyboardy-sounding version of the score doesn't entirely suit particularly well - while the band plays them well, it's not a sound I like particularly. So all in all, this is a well-executed example of something I just don't like very much.
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