American Idiot, Queanbeyan Players, THe Q, 20-29 June

 Green Day's 2004 album represented a progression for the band - known for their fast-punching three-minute pop-punk songs since the early 90s, the album was tied around contemporary issues of youthful alienation and post-September 11th right-wing nationalism, and used longer musical suites made up of multiple songs and recurring characters to tie together these threads into a light narrative of a confused suburbanite young man lost in the world of contemporary politics and life. In 2009 they teamed with director Michael Mayer and arranger and orchestrator Tom Kitt to build a Broadway musical based on the album, creating additional material for their follow-up album, 2009's "21st Century Breakdown", multiplying the protagonist into 3 young men, all alienated and lost as they search for purpose through drugs, through music, through relationships and through the military. 

It's a musically powerful show, from the thrashing title song to reflective songs like "Wake me up when September Ends" and "Boulevard of Broken Dreams", with Kitt's arrangements building the songs from their guitar-bass-a-vocalist-and-a-drumkit origins to embrace the power of the whole cast singing in harmony, with a string section joining the arrangements for added power. And musical directors Jen Hinton and Bridgid Cummins absolutely capture the mood and the sound, from pure thrash to delicate intimacy to powerful massed balladry. Dramatically the storytelling is a little rudimentary, with the three male protagonists largely disappointing the women in their life (two of the three female leads aren't given real names - one is "Extraordinary Girl", one is "Whatsername") - the women do have musical moments but the show, like the male characters, is never really willing to centre them for very long.  

The material is well performed, though - John Winfield as the central protagonist, Johnny, has a mix of cynicism and wounded innocence, aware that his rebellion is more talk than action. Darcy Kinsella as Will, the one who joins the army, has a sweet innocence to him that gets damaged over the course of the tale,, and Zac Izzard disappears into his inner-loss as he refuses to engage with the mother of his child. Shelby Holland as Whatsername and India Cornwell as Heather both show self-determination and power as they push the messed up men in their life away, and Abigail Dunn's dancing as Extrordinary Girl is, well, suitably extraordinary. Declan Pigram as the rock-legend-tempter St. Jimmy struts with the power required to draw us all in.

The ensemble are a vigorous physical presence throughout, throwing themselves into Nathan Rutrup's energetic choreography, releasing tension and belting out the tunes with power. It's a strong, energetic production of a show that works as long as you don't think about the plot too much (and alas, I'm a reviewer so I have to think about the plot a bit). 

Dead Man's Cell Phone, Canberra Repertory Society, 13-29 June

 Sarah Ruhl's 2007 comedy is an eccentric, oddball mystery about a young woman who ties herself into the life and work of a stranger when he dies, cellphone still ringing, at a cafe, and she elects to answer the phone on his behalf. It's a play about connections - family, professional and romantic - and about how dropping yourself into the web of these connections can expose you to all kinds of surprises. 

Kate Blackhurst's production is a smooth-running simply designed delight - on a set with a few levels and a beautifully framed projection screen, it dashes around the many and varied locations that the show requires with an emphasis on the eccentric characters and the propulsion of a strange magic-realist-farce plot that takes us everywhere from a cafe to a funeral to a dinner to a stationary cupboard to environments beyond with endearing charm. It's a surprisingly warm play for one that dives into some fairly dark territory in the second act, and it's a tricky tone to maintain - a little further and this would be too-cute-to-function, a little less and it would feel like all the characters are suffering from brain damage-  but it captures a delightful tone just right.

Leading the story is Jess Waterhouse as our hapless protagonist, caught out by just trying to do the right thing but unable to abandon her mission to look after the dead man's phone calls even when real life is making it clear that there are better options out there to consider - you get the strong sense of empathy with her and her dilemmas. Elaine Noon as the ominous Mrs Gottleib enthralls from her entrance-eulogy, opinionated and direct, knowing just what she wants and how she'll go about getting it. Alex McPherson is suitably mysterious and outrageous as the mystery woman who clearly knows more than she's saying. Bruce Hardie scores in the double role of Dead Gordon who has a lot more to say post-mortem than you'd expect, and the warm and endearing brother Dwight. And Victoria Dixon as the dead man's widow, Hermia, is suitably contained until a drunk scene sees all her barriers come down and the vulnerabilities reveal herself.

The show is a lightly styalised wonder, on Cate Clelland's beautiful set and with Suzan Cooper's costumes moving from simple business-and-day-wear to some more outrageous outfits near the finale. Stephen Still and Neville Pye's lighting and sound provide solid support to the story, with the assistance of Glenn Gore Phillips' score that moves from muzak to funereal organ via George Michael to entrancing film-noir themes with a bit of Pink Panther drums to a grand romantic release - it's just on the right side of pastiche.

Having read this play a while ago I admit I found it a bit slight and tonally inconsistent, but in this production its blithe tone turns out to be a far sweeter tale than I'd expected, with an eccentric but endearing tone working just rignt.   

A Streetcar Named Desire, Free-Rain Theatre, ACT Hub, 19-29 June

 (photo by Jane Duong)

Tennessee Williams' 1947 play is a piece that's probably always going to be relevant, alas - dealing with a relationship where lust and domestic abuse are very much intermingled, and the intervention of a family member with her own dangerous past intruding on the present. It's a long play (in this production it wanders near the 3 hour mark) but justifies that length with dense character studies of four leads all caught up between their desires for escape and their fears of what that escape might mean. This is the second production I've seen in a year (after seeing a preview of the production with Sheridan Harbridge playing Blanche at the Old Fitz last year), and it's a great text to return to for a deep dive and examination. 

Primary among the cast is Amy Kowalczuk as Blanche - entering the stage and seizing attention, slightly overdressed for the working-class New Orleans two-room apartment she's in, and clearly self-medicating with alcohol to avoid past traumas. It's a performance that doesn't oversell the damage Blanche has suffered - she's just on the edge of holding on, reorienting herself constantly to keep herself in check, letting the tension bubble under for most of the play rather than releasing it. It's a role that requires her to move between snobbishness, self-righteousness, melancholy, joy, viciousness, outrage, protectiveness, fear and finally catatonia, and she strikes every note perfectly. 

Alex Hoskison matches her as Stanley - this is a role wildly different from what he gave us in February in his monologue in "Queers", but whereas that role was delicate and sensitive, Stanley is earthy, practical and assertive - a simple man with rage under the surface, as he seeks to repel what he sees as Blanche's invasion on his property - alienating him against his wife, her barbs against his lack of couth, and his pride at not being taken advantage of. In the early stages of the play he sells Stanley as a dumb-guy-who-thinks-he's-smart kicking out at those around him who he can physically dominate, either through sex with his wife or through physical intimidation with the men around him. 

Meaghen Stewart as Stella has the challenge of intervening between the two of them - forgiving and protective of her sister but equally in thrall of her husband - the lust between the two of them is palpable as hell, but so is the warmth between the sisters. She gives the character her own integrity - even as we know that her devotion to her husband is as big a delusion as any that Blanche suffers from, we still feel what draws them together. 

Lachlan Ruffy makes a long-awaited return to Canberra stages for the first time in a fully-rehearsed play since 2018's "Switzerland", playing the gentle Mitch who turns out to be not quite the pushover he appears - there's real chemistry between him and Kowalczuk as she enthralls him, and there's a danger in the breakup scene as he shares his contempt for her then realises how close to the edge he's going and consciously steps back. His despair in the final scene is palpable.

Elsewhere the cast seizes small moments, from Sarah Hull's supportive Eunice going through her own issues upstairs of the apartment, Tim Stiles' presence as another bullish man sharing racist jokes at poker and enacting his own messy relationship dynamics at the edge of the story to the gentle reassuring presence of David Bennett at the end of the play. 

There are some issues with details at the edge of the play - Blanche's collapible bed never moves from its closed position onstage, scene transitions are a little clunky and the more surreal moments near the end of the play don't entirely feel set up or followed through. But at its core this is a strong production of a classic,  led by strong performances at the centre. 

Highway of Lost Hearts, A Lingua Franca, The Q, 6-7 June and subsequently 14-15 June at Riverside Theatres Parramatta

 

(photo by Hannah Grogan)

The Road story has a long and proud tradition - you could say it dates back to Homer's "The Odyssey", via such material as "It Happened One Night", Steinbeck's "Travels With Charlie", Kerouac's "On the Road", up to "Priscilla Queen of the Desert" and beyond. It's a genre that lets protagonists encounter all sorts of people and events along the road, discovering fundamental truths about their society and themselves. Mary Anne Butler's play is a fine continuation of that genre, as a protagonist hops into a van with a dog and travels from the far north of Australia through various remote country towns, dealing with her own internal demons and the brutality of both the external environment as well as other people and her own turmoils. There's a risk in this kind of material that it can become very much a series of incidents, particularly in this case with a protagonist who doesn't go in for a lot of exposition about what's brought them to this point, but a combination of Butler's versatile writing, capable of both the height of poetic celebration and the depths of brutal realism, performer Kate Smith and musicians Abby Smith and Sophie Jones, a simple set of three drapes, three seating areas and a bit of spinifex by Annemaree Dalziel and Bekcy Russell and some powerful lighting effects by Becky Russell ensures that this is a beautiful and resonant experience, a personal story that is also universal - wide in scope but intimate in experience.

Performer Kate Smith is an engaging, strong presence, able to handle the shifts in script from joy to rage to sorrow to introspective, and from rhapsodic to starkly dramatic. We feel as she feels, and are completely drawn into the experience. Musicians Smith & Jones weave in and out of the story too, sometimes remote presences to the side, sometimes moving in close as observers, as companions, and as contributions to the mood and energy, sometimes reflective, sometimes driving the action.

This is a powerful new Australian play given a beautiful production and should be seen by anybody interested in exploring human nature, the world around us and the spaces within us.