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. 

August: Osage County, Belvoir St Theatre/Black Swan State Theatre, Upstairs Theatre, Belvoir Street Theatre, 9 Nov-15 Dec

 Didn't I just review this already? Well, yes, but Belvoir and Black Swan's production has just enough different choices to make it worthy of interest, from the decision to use a set (designed by Bob Cousns) which takes a more impressionistic approach to the challenge of combining a whole house full of family members on stage (including incorporating the symbolic papered-over-windows into the set), to a relentless pace that blends the opening discrete scenes into one another, to the timing of a production of a play about the declining United States of America after the  to the performance idiosyncracies of a new set of actors, from Pamela Rabe's monstrous celebration of a Violet Weston to John Howard's permasloshed Beverly, Helen Thompson's disgruntled Tammy Faye, Greg Stone's goofy Charles Aiken, Tamsin Carrol's volatile Barbara, Bert La Bonte's chagrined Bill, Amy Mathews' deglamorised Ivy,  to Esther William's desperately young Jean to Bee Cruise's observant and quietly cutting Johnna. 

Eamon Flack directs it with a clear head and a firm sense of place in a mostly open staging, finding points of focus around the space whether it be on a couch, at the large table during the dinner scene, at the hifi right at the centre of the stage or during one key moment played behind the set. There's an energetic heft to this and it never feels even vaguely close to the three hours 15 that it actually is, with every note of Tracey Lett's play given maximum impact. It's a powerful, strong night in the theatre and recommended for the revisit.  

Sunday, Sydney Theatre Company/Melbourne Theatre Company, Drama Theatre Sydney Opera House, 28 Oct-12 Dec

 

Anthony Weighs's play covers about thirty years of history between a mix of characters who were all associated with the titular Sunday Reed and the art commune she created in a rural property near Melbourne, and particularly focuses on her relationship with one of the artists, Sydney Nolan - though the non-linear storytelling goes back to her initial meeting with her eventual husband, John Reed, and forward to the final parting between her and Nolan. Sarah Goodes stages it on a mostly simple stage with a gap in the back where dates are projected, as artistic and personal passions become mixed and questions become raised about who's the true creator of the work, patron or artist. 

The story is very much focussed, as the title suggests, on Sunday - to the extent that some of the other famous accomplishments of those around her, in particular, her husband John - but it's a good chance to get focus on a figure who might otherwise be backgrounded in other versions - we get a strong sense of Sunday as an engaged, passionate fighter for her opinions and right to live her life how she likes. Nikki Shiels is magnetic and compelling, witty, powerful, and with an undercurrent of instability which means you're never sure just where she's going to turn next. Around her everyone else is a bit of a bit-player - James O'Connell fares best as Nolan, emerging from a hat factory to develop his own artistic style, his byplay with Sunday becomes more sensual as the story develops until he finds the need for his own independance. Matt Day as John is witty but shows the passion hiding under the surface. Ratidzo Mambo suffers the most as Joy, a character who largely exists to serve plot functions such as to represent the multiple other artists at Heide and to deliver a plot twist late in the play. Jude Hyland as the fifth member of the cast is there largely for the intro and to setup the story to come. 

Anna Cordingly's set design is all large grand brush strokes and fine details up until a finale coup de theatre, and Harriet Oxley's costumes capture the 30s-40s-50s dress sense exactly. It's a long play, covering all the histroy it does, and yet when you research after you feel like it's somehow an incomplete introduction to a very complex character, but it's compelling while it lasts. 

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.