A Balloon Will Pop * At Some Point During This Play, East and Under Theatre Company, ACT Hub, 8-9 November

 

This is one of those shows that's great fun to watch but a bugger to review. To even describe it is a challenge - it's sorta standup-philosophy, which as anybody who saw Mel Brooks' "History of the World Part I" know, means bullshit, but in this case it's erudite, thoughtful bullshit with an inate suspense created by the titular balloon and a visible sharp object. Andrew McMillan, fresh from playing Leo and Adam in "The Inheritance", tells a big scale story delving into some of the bigger questions of existance, while also not being above some jokes that could considered low comedy. 

McMillan switches modes in this, surfing the existential waves as he plays with a pre-recorded set of sound cues (tightly cued by stage manager Maggie Hawkins) and visual support from some slide projections. McMillan brings his Edinburgh Fringe show to Canberra in a tightly drilled, thoughtful one-man show that looks at the infinite and the personal and what living between the two of them could mean.

Nice Work if You Can Get It, Queanbeyan Players, The Q, 1-10 November

 This is another review of a show I've reviewed before, in the Hayes production in 2024 (link here), but this production uses the bigger stage of the Q and the opportunities it grabs for splashy production numbers to tell its ridiculous story of three bootleggers, an army of chorus girls and vice squad members, a carefree playboy, a wedding and a whole lot of Gerswhin classic songs squeezed into one show. The team of Dave Smith, Kirsten Smith and Brigid Cummins have assembled a fine cast, band and crew to create a fluffy November frolic for Queanbeyan Players that should delight anyone. 

Leading the cast is Luke Ferdinands, singing Gershwin so perfectly you'd swear they were recorded on a 78rpm shellac record, and performing the role of an impulsive, frivolous playboy to sweetly dimwitted perfection. Alongside him is Sienna Curnow as tough tomboyish bootlegger Billie, with a sweetly yearning singing voice and a fragility lying just under the rough surface in the sweetest of ways. Anthony Swadling as bootlegger-turned-butler is a masterpiece in frustrated rage, grumbling through multiple plot twists with aplomb. Lillee Keating as the campaigning Duchess Dulworth sings grandly operatically and finds the joy when she's finally released from her straightlaced restrictions. John Whinfield delights almost instantly as he does a muppet-like dash across the stage with bobbing head, and adds in layers of goofy idiocy as he gets entwined with Kay Liddiard's playful Jeannie Muldoon. Steven O'Mara plays just as delightfully as goofy Chief Berry, caught up in the multitudes of deceptions and nonsense. Anna Tully's Eileen is delightfully condescending, blithe and looks great whether in a an elognated bathtub specialty number or in her wedding gear with ridiculously long train. Pat Gallagher gallumphs effectively as the stern Senator/Referend/Judge Evergreen, and Fiona Hale is a fun deus ex machina at the end as Millicent. 

Dave Smith directs effectively with an emphasis on comedy but with just enough reality for us to care when boy is in peril of losing girl, and Kirsten Smith choreographs on a grand scale, filling the stage with undulating bodies in compelling patterns to Gershwin's rhythms, fascinating and otherwise. Brigid Cummings conducts a band that sounds perfectly period, taking us back into the 20s and swinging up a storm. 

In short, this is a nonsensical, big scale retro delight. If it's not quite how they wrote them back in the day (back then the good songs were split over about 5 or 6 musicals and the plot made, somehow, even less sense than this one), it's a concentrated hit of all the best things of the era and a great fun night out.  

Dear Evan Hansen, Sydney Theatre Company and Michael Cassell Group, Roslyn Packer Theatre, 12 Oct - 1 Dec (and subsequent touring to Melbourne from 14 Dec, Canberra from 27 Feb and Adelaide from 3 April)

 "Dear Evan Hansen" is a teen angst musical about an isolated boy who finds an invitation into other's lives when he is mistakenly taken for a close friend of a fellow student who committed suicide - his engagement with the family of the dead student, his fellow students and his mother all spiral out of control as social media gets involved in spreading the mixed truths in the name of inspiration. Accompanied by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul's songs which sound grandly inspirational until you remember exactly how much falsitude is behind them, it's a thought provoking show given a speedy, grandly powerful production from Dean Bryant and a skilled Australian team. 

For wahtever reason, Beau Woodbridge was not available to play the role of Evan Hansen at my performance so Lawrence Hawkins filled in - at such a level of performance that it would appear he's owned the role for months - he conveys Evan's nervous energy exactly, hitting every note of a challenging score and communicating how out of control Evan's life feels. He's surrounded by a strong supporting cast - for a big scale musical, this is a fairly intimate show, with a total cast of 8 - Evan and his mum, the suicidal Connor and his sister, mother and father, and two fellow students make up the ensemble. It's enhanced by video projections reflecting both memories and the social media world around the them (designed by David Bergman) - it's a staging that whisks us from location to location swiftly. The lighting design by Matt Scott isolates Evan in a bigger world excellently.

This show has its controversies - Evan's deception may start out as a white lie but it becomes obvious Evan's not entirely above taking advantage of his luck, and in behaving in ways that aren't entirely honourable. And the focus on him means that inevably some other characters around him fall into caricature - including pretty much all the other younger characters - this is particularly the case in his relationship with the late Connor's sister, where she feels less like a rounded human being so much as a girl-shaped-object for Evan to fixate on. This is by no means the only show ever to have an underwritten female lead, but it's a pity that a show in the 21st century still struggles to actually give a female character an interior life.  

But Bryant's production takes full advantage of the material to present a big scale musical that pushes just a little bit deeper than normal - no, it's not at the level of "Fun Home" or "Next to Normal" (to name two of my favourite psychological musicals of recent years), but it does have a certain power to it that works. 

Well Behaved Women, Belvoir Street Theatre, Sept 28-Nov 3

 Based on Laurel Thatcher Ulrich's quote "Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History", this song cycle by Perth Born, New York Based compose Carmel Deane features four performers telling the stories of 16 women over the course of 15 songs plus a cycle-capping song at the end. From Eve to Malala via Grace Tame, Hariet Tubman and others, it's a simply-staged production, with a 4 piece band scattered around Grace Deacon's black levelled set, aided by Susie Henderson's Video design. There's power in some of these moments (getting to see Ursula Yovich sing Boudicca's song is a powerful experience, as is Zahra Newman's introductory tempting Eve or Stephani Caccamo's Mary Magdelene complaining about being the only girl in the picture). From a quick check, it appears the show's had a localising rewrite since its original run, with Elanor Roosevelt, the first 4 female Supreme Court Justices and Lady Liberty replaced by Julia Gillard, Grace Tame and Cathy Freeman, and it does feel like we've traded up at our end. 

The challenge of a song cycle is that with every song you reset, and the show's fortunate to have the four fine actresses it has who provide a solid reset for each number, keeping it engaging (the fourth actress at my performance was standby Sarah Murr) - still, it's difficult not to compare and one or two pieces don't really seem to fit the requirement for significant women of history (the Billie Jean King number, concentrating on the 70's Battle of the Sexes match, feels like it's indulging in one of the minor sideshows of history rather than something eseential) - while the Fanny Durack/Mina Wylie song illuminates a bit of almost-forgotten history that richly rewards the examination. The performers sing with compassion, strength, power and intelligence, engaging the audience completely in these stories, and Blazey Best stages it well, using the variuos areas of the stage to get the performers up close and personal. 

While it can feel a little like preaching to the converted, I'd prefer to call it a gentle reminder of where we've come from and a chance for skilled performers to get to engage with powerful women in a strong set of songs.  

Titanique, Michael Cassell Group, Grand Electric, 12 Sept-1 Dec (currently, though may extend)

 

A ridiculous spoof of the James Cameron movie, Celine Dion's career, the conventions of musical theatre and anything else going in the culture at the time they wrote this, "Titanique" as a show observes little sense of reality, spares little budget for props, has no respect for the fourth wall and runs about half the length of the James Cameron movie it's based on. And thank goodness for that - this is a good old fashinoed laugh riot. One might quibble, perhaps, that the song list lacks the obvious song for a flashback (It's all Coming Back To Me Now, presumably because Jim Steinman proved surprisingly less amenable to music liscencing than either the Walt Disney Corporation, Phil Spector, Diane Warren or any of the other writers of the 18 Celine tracks performed during the show). But it's a minor quibble. 

The plot features Celine inserting her into a broadly played recap of the 1997 James Cameron film, stealing any solos going and generally making a French-Canadian mashup of vowels all over the place. Nothing is sacred - not the front row of the audience, not the performances of the original cast, not Celine and certainly not any random sex jokes that can find their way into the script somewhere. It's a big bouncy burlesque of a show, with a core of respect for the music, sung spectacularly by a cast of eleven plus band. and given go-for-broke performances led by Marney McQueen as the glorious diva herself, with a well-studied performance that includes every askew head bop, every heroic arm wave along with the glorious notes we need. Drew Weston is an enthusiasticaly idiotic Jack and Georgina Hopson matches him for empty-headedness as  Rose. Keane Sheppard-Fletcher's Cal is suitably self-impressed as himbo finance Cal, Stephan Anderson drips venom as Rose's disapproving mother Ruth, Abigail Dixon is a boisterous Molly Brown and Abu powers through as the Seamen, the Iceberg and whatever else the show needs him to do. 

The Grand Electric is very much a found-venue, a back-of-the-alley hall jam packed with seating for the occasion and very eager to sell the audience as much booze as possible - given seating is first-in-best-dressed in your area, I'd suggest arriving early for best sightlines unless you've paid for the front-row cabaret tables. 

If you dislike Celine or 1997's biggest grossing box office sensation, this is not your show. But for anbyody else, this is a ridiculous, fun evening of song, story and budget-appropriate-spectacle for anyone with a sense of nonsense. 

 

The Inheritance (Parts I and II), Everyman Theatre, ACT Hub, 12 Oct-2 Nov

 

A deep dive into both the last decade of gay cultural history and the decades that have come before, "The Inheritance" is a passionate exploration of questions of gay identity and how it's been communicated and understood - both in the contemporary world of gay marriage where it's easy to be complacent and the decades before when it has been at risk either through censorship both external and internal and the wider threats of disease and death. It's been a beloved text for me since I first read it back in 2018 and during the pandemic I wrote a piece on it called Shows I wish someone would do to try to communicate my love for it. I've read the play on and off since the first reading, delighting in its depth and breadth as it examines two central couples from different generations, the wealthy young actor and the impoverished sex worker who become involved, and their attempts to tell their stories with honesty and integrity, even as they fight against their own worst instincts.

Jarrad West's production is a wonder, bringing together a powerhouse cast in a small traverse arena, up close and very personal, managing the multiple modes of the show, from epic speeches to small two-person scenes to grand debates on essential questions of gay and American political culture - act two of part one alone contains both a sensual erotic re-enactment of a night in a Prague bathhouse, a Manhattan brunch debate on the nature of Gay Cultural Co-Option, and a tear-down bruising fight as a couple fall apart. The bare space - two sets of benches with props concealed within them on either side of the stage with a white open area between them - is filled with life, action, and animating thought throughout. 

Among the powerhouse performances are Duncan Driver in his first appearance on Canberra stages in around 5 years - playing both Morgan (E.M Forster as narrator, in constant dialogue with the young men of the cast, challenging and examining their choices) and Walter, the historic emotional heart of the show and the strongest connection to history - his delivery of the monologue at the act one should break every heart in the theatre. James McMahon is so easy to take to heart as Eric Glass - a protagonist whose pure goodness rarely wavers should be difficult to take, lacking in the stimulating flaws of much of the rest of the cast, but McMahon manages to make this goodness gripping and powerful. Joel Horwood makes compelling the pure agent of chaos that is Toby Darling, selfish, frustrating, self-pitying, often disastrously wrong, they are somehow gripping as you hopelessly wish that just once, Toby would make the right decision. Andrew McMillan is fascinating in duel roles both as the privileged Adam and the unprivileged Leo, managing to differentiate them firmly throughout, even at the point when the two characters meet in the story. Rhys Robinson as the distant, powerful financier Henry lets us see both the wall he maintains professionally and the holes in the armour where emotions sneak through - both the warm lovingness and the sudden rage when he erupts when pained. Lachlan Herring makes a delight of the waspish Jasper who comes alive when the debate gets passionate, and Jack Tinga brings warmth as Tristian, the friend who brings uncomfortable truths. Callum Doherty and Michael Cooper match well with their older counterparts as the Young Walter and Henry, and Robbie Haltiner and Leonidas Katsanis have a gentle warmth as the Jasons. Liam Pritchard as Toby's agent presents harsh showbiz realities with a suitable lack of sugar coating. And Karen Vickery brings it home with warmth and honesty as truth-teller Margaret. 

There's so much strength here, whether it be in Lachlan Houen's lighting (which even manages to reflet the Everyman logo in a couple of the shadows), the combination of movenent director/choreographer Chloe Archer and Intimacy Co-ordinator Karen Vickery in the carefully choreographed sensual sequences, the multiple props including many editions of books mentioned in the text co-ordinated between Marion West, Alice Ferguson and Brenton Warren, the costumes designed and co-ordinated by Joel Horwood, Fiona Leech, Emma Batchelor and Vanessa Valois, the location specific sound design by Nikki Fitzgerald and Nathan Patrech, the warm original music by Alexander Unikowski - this is finely produced stuff with all the parts making up the whole beautifully. 

Matthew Lopez's play is a very aware part of the tradition of Gay men telling their stories, from the closeted days of Wilde, Maugham, Forster and Noel Coward, through to the semi-revealed closet of Tennessee Williams to the open rompery of Joe Orton, the bitterness of Mart Crowlely, the rage of Larry Kushner, the warmth of Armistead Maupin, the political spectacle of Tony Kushner and the personal intimacy of Tommy Murphy and is a worthy successor to all of them - it's a grandly powerful, emotional, intelligent, erotic, spectacle for the mind, soul and heart. It's a production that will live long in my memory. 

Cost of Living, Melbourne Theatre Company, The Sumner, Southbank Theatre, 14 Sep-19 Oct

 

About a month after MTC presented the 2023 Pulitzer Prizewinner for drama in a Canberra Tour, they present the 2018 one (also this year I've seen the 1948, 2008, and 2010 winners and I'll be seeing the 2017 winner next month along with another go at the 2008). Martyna Majok's play looks at the relationship between two disabled people - one paraplegic, one quadriplegic - and their carers - in one case, an ex-husband who hasn't yet been removed from next-of-kin or the insurance, in the other a bartender looking for part-time work assisting a young grad student who needs casual assistance to fully function in the world. In both cases these are relationships complicated by the human needs of both of the partners - the push and pull that affects both of them in different ways. 

It's a challenging show to cast, given the show presents the two cared-for characters with authentic casting - but it's found two skilled performers in Rachel Edmonds as the prickly, wary Ani and Oli Pizzey Stratford as the privileged, blithe John. They're matched by Mabel Li as the bartender-turned-caregiver and Aaron Pederson as the ex-husband still yearning for engagement with his wife. It's quite an intimate story for the massive Sumner theatre and Anthea William's production manages to draw the audience in (though I do think the sets are a little too grand-sized - even for the evident privilege John is meant to have, a New York apartment that size would cost an astronomic amount in rent that I'm not sure is even vaguely possible, and even Ani's apartment feels a little inflated despite the cramped quarters created by unpacked boxes - the Sumner stage is simply too wide for this show). Still, as Majok's story dwells into the needs of both cared-for and care-giver, it grabs the heart and doesn't let go for an hour fifty running time. The ending in particular is strong as it sees a crossover of needs between the two stories in a way that tentatively leans towards hope. 

Matilda Woodroofe's set and costumes, allowing for the scale issue mentioned above, are beutiful and striking and reflect the different mileu's of the play, and it's strongly lit by Richard Vabre. This is a very skilfully put together, personal production made with heart and care.