Rep's regular variety performances have been a popular favourite for the better part of 40 years - throwing a range of performers and sketches together for spontaneous mixed performances with verve and enthusiasm. Variety has been slipping away as a popular art form, however (largely a nostalgia thing - the last time there was a big wave of variety on TV was the 70s and early 80s), and this season, Rep's not quite delivering variety - instead, it's a tribute revue to Jerry Herman, that most showbizzy of composers.
There's still a wide variety of numbers - from jazzy sass to heart-rending-pathos to big chorus numbers. With a cast of eleven (well, twelve if you include musical director and accompanist Leisa Keen, who sings a few solos and joins in on the chorus numbers). The show as curated by Paul Gilger parades through around 38 songs over ten sequences of songs, with clever thematic combinations forming connections across different shows from different eras, including letting songs from one show become rebuttals to the sexist assumptions of songs from another era.
There's a lot of high points - Sarah Hull conquers with a whammo "Wherever He Ain't"; there's a lovely blending of two obscure songs from "Dear World", "And I was Beautiful" and "Kiss Her Now" shared between Michael Moore and Janelle McMenamin; Moore also gets to do his Louis Armstrong impersonation for "Hello Dolly"; Keen's delivery of "Time Heals Everything" is soulful and strong; and McLenamin and Liz DeToth get a chunk of good laughs with the classic "Bosom Buddies". There's a lot of wit in Jordan Kelly's staging (in particular, the act two opener "Just Go to the Movies") and the show flows delightfully throughout.
Unfortunately, this still remains a bit of an uneven show that isn't as tight as it might be - I don't know whether first night nerves were hitting heavily or whether the cast were in uncomfortable spots in their vocal range for a few songs, and a couple of dance routines were spottier than they should have been. But this is thoroughly decent light entertainment, showing off talented performers skillfully - and that's always welcome.
Friday, 20 June 2014
Tuesday, 3 June 2014
Brothers Wreck, Belvoir
Belvoir's had an on-and-off relationship with indigenous drama - some strong hits ("Radiance", "Up The Road", "Namatjira","The Sapphires") and a few less so (I didn't think much of "Jack Charles vs The Crown" or "Welcome To Broome", for example). At its strongest, Belvoir's used indigenous performers in wide-ranging plays, and brought them into the ensemble strongly.
"Brothers Wreck" is ... perhaps a little too middle-of-the-road as it goes. There's some strength and heartfelt work here, and it's obviously passionate about the issue of suicide among indigenous youth, and the ways through it with family and support network. But there's a slight sense that vital details that would make this an individual story rather than a "typical one" are missing.
The story of Ruben (Hunter Page-Lochard) whose brother has just committed suicide in the opening scene, is told in a series of scenes as he attempts to push away from everybody's attempts to engage and support him. His court-mandated counselling sessions with David (Cramer Cain) do come across as a exposition device rather than something really earned (there's virtually no details about whatever crime may have caused a court to order them). It's on stronger ground with the loose bonds of family and friends - cousin-come-sister Adele (Rarriwuy Hick, strong but a little too keen to smile through the pain), her boyfriend Jarrod (Bjorn Stewart, who presents a good solid generous soul) and aunt Petra (Lisa Flanagan, whose late arrival brings a breath of fresh air and realistic tough love into the proceedings).
It's a piece from the heart, but seems about a draft or two away from really flying in all ways. Clearly, Leah Purcell's directed passionately, and the performances are strong and real. And the set evokes the wet hot north wonderfully (even on the verge of winter), all open spaces and dripping windows.
This is a play that some people are going to take to their heart anyway - it's passionate and it's concerned and it's well performed. But I think Jada Alberts script too often goes for the easy route of letting the performances fill in where the script should establish the characters better. It's ... not bad. But it could be better.
"Brothers Wreck" is ... perhaps a little too middle-of-the-road as it goes. There's some strength and heartfelt work here, and it's obviously passionate about the issue of suicide among indigenous youth, and the ways through it with family and support network. But there's a slight sense that vital details that would make this an individual story rather than a "typical one" are missing.
The story of Ruben (Hunter Page-Lochard) whose brother has just committed suicide in the opening scene, is told in a series of scenes as he attempts to push away from everybody's attempts to engage and support him. His court-mandated counselling sessions with David (Cramer Cain) do come across as a exposition device rather than something really earned (there's virtually no details about whatever crime may have caused a court to order them). It's on stronger ground with the loose bonds of family and friends - cousin-come-sister Adele (Rarriwuy Hick, strong but a little too keen to smile through the pain), her boyfriend Jarrod (Bjorn Stewart, who presents a good solid generous soul) and aunt Petra (Lisa Flanagan, whose late arrival brings a breath of fresh air and realistic tough love into the proceedings).
It's a piece from the heart, but seems about a draft or two away from really flying in all ways. Clearly, Leah Purcell's directed passionately, and the performances are strong and real. And the set evokes the wet hot north wonderfully (even on the verge of winter), all open spaces and dripping windows.
This is a play that some people are going to take to their heart anyway - it's passionate and it's concerned and it's well performed. But I think Jada Alberts script too often goes for the easy route of letting the performances fill in where the script should establish the characters better. It's ... not bad. But it could be better.
Monday, 2 June 2014
8 Gigabytes of Hardcore Pornography, Griffin
It's a simple story. Boy meets girl. Both have issues, and both explore them over the course of the evening. It could be any rom-com ever written.
Except ... in this case, neither particularly want to be honest about themselves with the other person. They want an escape, they want a release... but neither of them are able to get out of their own heads and out of their own way to get to a point where they may actually understand and engage and enjoy another's company. Two people demolished by their own neuroses.
This sounds grim, dire stuff. And in lesser hands than those of writer Declan Greene, director Lee Lewis and actors Steve Rodgers and Andrea Gibbs, this might have been. But instead, this is human, funny stuff - it's unblinking in the face of the characters flaws and unsentimental, yet ultimately something very engaging to the heart and the mind. Staged very simply - two performers, two chairs, a lot of shagpile carpeting and a few vertical blinds, there's nothing to come between us and the characters. Greene's script demands they engage the audience directly, repeatedly, often in extended monologues and rarely in actual conversation with one another - and, even when describing utterly disturbing things, we're still drawn in.
Yes, the title is utterly a tease - this could be called "Reflections on sad loneliness between two people". But that title doesn't sell tickets, while this probably does. So why not buy one? This plays the street later this month, and it'd be worth catching.
Thursday, 29 May 2014
White Rabbit, Red Rabbit - Street Theatre
Nassim Soleimanpour's play is an intriguing experiment. The title itself refers to an experiment that's described in the course of the play - one about conformity and group behaviour. And in many ways, that's what this is - an experiment in conformity and group behaviour. One that's being played on the audience as well as the performer.
In many ways, this most resembles Boho Interactive's "Word Play" from last year - also an experiment, with some intriguing moments - though White Rabbit Red Rabbit definately sustains its experiment better, largely by letting the experiment be two-sided - the actor is as much unprepared for what's coming as the audience.
Performing tonight was Eliza Bell, whose departure from Canberra has been noticed and somewhat lamented (she's so very good). Performing cold without having ever read the material, she remained engaging, engaged, emotive and true.
I do think Soleimanpour's script is a little ... manipulative. But I would say that. I'm the rabbit being experimented on. There are a few more experiments running before the week is out and ... if you don't mind something that's going to stretch you a little, you can join Nick Byrne, Raoul Craemer or Kat Bhathena and get experimented on a little.
In many ways, this most resembles Boho Interactive's "Word Play" from last year - also an experiment, with some intriguing moments - though White Rabbit Red Rabbit definately sustains its experiment better, largely by letting the experiment be two-sided - the actor is as much unprepared for what's coming as the audience.
Performing tonight was Eliza Bell, whose departure from Canberra has been noticed and somewhat lamented (she's so very good). Performing cold without having ever read the material, she remained engaging, engaged, emotive and true.
I do think Soleimanpour's script is a little ... manipulative. But I would say that. I'm the rabbit being experimented on. There are a few more experiments running before the week is out and ... if you don't mind something that's going to stretch you a little, you can join Nick Byrne, Raoul Craemer or Kat Bhathena and get experimented on a little.
Saturday, 24 May 2014
The Government Inspector, Belvoir/Malthouse
This is just plain funny. It's hysterical. And to say why, to summarise, is to give away large chunks of the jokes. No, it does not bear a lot of resemblance to Gogol's play ... although, having said that, it does eventually veer back towards the ostensible source material - but as a pure, unadulterated comedy, this plays incredibly well.
It's not obvious that this should be the case. Simon Stone's productions from "Thysestes" to "Hamlet" have, occasionally, had their moments of bitter humour, but this is an entirely different beast - a spoof of actors, of the haphazard process of creating theatre, and the hopes that somehow, somewhere, it'll all work out okay on the night.
The cast, too, aren't always noticeably comedic actors. Robert Menzies, who's strength at playing serious, haunted, tragic figures is undeniable, translates his mournful nature into hilarious pessimism. Greg Stone, so disturbingly moving last year as Polonius, takes the hysterical perskittiness in a different direction. Mitchell Butel, Gareth Davies and Zahra Newman have more recent comic form, but push their comic personas in intriguing new varieties in several new directions.
Does it compromise by not bringing across Gogol's original? Well, yes and no. The political satire of Gogol's play is pretty minimal, really - it's about how the easiest way to fool people is to make sure they want to be fooled in the first place. And that carries through in this new variation on a theme - while letting the comedy reign free and wild.
Very recomended.
It's not obvious that this should be the case. Simon Stone's productions from "Thysestes" to "Hamlet" have, occasionally, had their moments of bitter humour, but this is an entirely different beast - a spoof of actors, of the haphazard process of creating theatre, and the hopes that somehow, somewhere, it'll all work out okay on the night.
The cast, too, aren't always noticeably comedic actors. Robert Menzies, who's strength at playing serious, haunted, tragic figures is undeniable, translates his mournful nature into hilarious pessimism. Greg Stone, so disturbingly moving last year as Polonius, takes the hysterical perskittiness in a different direction. Mitchell Butel, Gareth Davies and Zahra Newman have more recent comic form, but push their comic personas in intriguing new varieties in several new directions.
Does it compromise by not bringing across Gogol's original? Well, yes and no. The political satire of Gogol's play is pretty minimal, really - it's about how the easiest way to fool people is to make sure they want to be fooled in the first place. And that carries through in this new variation on a theme - while letting the comedy reign free and wild.
Very recomended.
Tuesday, 25 March 2014
Witches of Eastwick, Supa, ANU Arts Centre
John Dempsey and Dana P. Rowe's musical of John Updike's novel (via the George Miller-directed film) was a late period Cameron Mackintosh production (he's only produced one new show since, the stage version of "Mary Poppins", co-produced with Disney). It's an odd piece in may ways - a cross-breed between the English mega-musical with big power ballad sings and spectacular effects and the American history of musical comedy with jokes and bouncy chorus numbers.
In Supa's production, it plays largely as a vehicle for five of the leads - the three titular witches, with Louiza Blomfield suitably earth-mothery as Alexandra, Vanessa de Jager all fluttery nerves as Sukie, and Kelly Roberts acidly sarcastic as Jane; plus Jarrad West as the darkly compelling man they conjour into town, Daryl Van Horne and Michelle Klemke as the interfering gossipy busybody Felicia who acts as their nemesis. All are cast to perfection - the three witches in particular harmonise gorgeously under Rose Shorney's musical direction. The chorus makes a good collective, too, on numbers like "Dirty Laundry" (although I do think some of the dancing comes on a bit as "we need dancing here" rather than anything particuarly expressing plot or character).
If the material starts to derail shortly after halftime, it's largely the material that's at fault - the three witches lose their individual personalities and become an unidentified clump, the show really misses Klemke after she leaves, plus the plot developments come a bit too fast and unclearly motivated. But the company remains game for it and rides out the messier plotting before a big female empowerment ballad finale (with unfortunately cliche-ridden lyrics).
Production-value wise, this is a pretty reasonable production. I quibble with the costumes for two of the trio at the end of Act One (I know it's a challenge to stick a flying harness under a big flowing dress, but they've managed it for Kelly Roberts so the other two are entitled to something a bit better too). Shorney's orchestra is as solid a combo as one could wish for.
In short, this is a fun, lush evening out with five great cast members at the top of their game and a delightful ensemble supporting.
In Supa's production, it plays largely as a vehicle for five of the leads - the three titular witches, with Louiza Blomfield suitably earth-mothery as Alexandra, Vanessa de Jager all fluttery nerves as Sukie, and Kelly Roberts acidly sarcastic as Jane; plus Jarrad West as the darkly compelling man they conjour into town, Daryl Van Horne and Michelle Klemke as the interfering gossipy busybody Felicia who acts as their nemesis. All are cast to perfection - the three witches in particular harmonise gorgeously under Rose Shorney's musical direction. The chorus makes a good collective, too, on numbers like "Dirty Laundry" (although I do think some of the dancing comes on a bit as "we need dancing here" rather than anything particuarly expressing plot or character).
If the material starts to derail shortly after halftime, it's largely the material that's at fault - the three witches lose their individual personalities and become an unidentified clump, the show really misses Klemke after she leaves, plus the plot developments come a bit too fast and unclearly motivated. But the company remains game for it and rides out the messier plotting before a big female empowerment ballad finale (with unfortunately cliche-ridden lyrics).
Production-value wise, this is a pretty reasonable production. I quibble with the costumes for two of the trio at the end of Act One (I know it's a challenge to stick a flying harness under a big flowing dress, but they've managed it for Kelly Roberts so the other two are entitled to something a bit better too). Shorney's orchestra is as solid a combo as one could wish for.
In short, this is a fun, lush evening out with five great cast members at the top of their game and a delightful ensemble supporting.
Saturday, 15 March 2014
For departed heroes.
In the last month, three theatre-related people I know have passed away. Two of them I knew well, and I'll memorialise them (I didn't know Jasan Savage well, so I feel inadequate in memorialising him.)
James Waites took his last swim at Coogee Beach on 12/2/2014. I met him only a year ago, though I'd been reading his work much longer than that. I read his contentious run of reviews on the Sydney Morning Herald and The Bulletin, and I started reading his intermittent but fascinating writings on jameswaites.com, and occasionally entering into the brawling in the comments. It was one such contact in the comments where I mentioned I wouldn't be able to see the sold-out Canberra season of "The Secret River" ... where James kindly contacted me and offered me a ticket if I was prepared to host him for a night. I did, we saw it, the review is on this site for anybody who cares to read it ... and we had extensive conversations about theatre, about life, about what he'd seen and experienced, about the world he'd lived through, his current work recording interviews for the National Library, about his involvement with Mardi Gras and about, inevitably, his health problems. I later got a chance to drop round his place in Surry Hills a few times, and to host him again for the July production of "Hipbone Sicking Out". He mattered hugely to me.
Naoné Carrel I'd known for over 7 years. It probably comes as no surprise to readers of the blog that, yes, I do have an association with Canberra Repertory. And Naoné is a key reason why that association went from "vaguely liking their shows and appearing on stage finally in one of them" to "ending up doing all kinds of things with them from crewing to front of house to a brief run of set building". She spread the invitation gratefully and made it impossible for me to consider anywhere else my natural Canberra Theatre home. She engaged, she cajoled, she occasionally micromanaged but she cared deeply and fiercely. Losing her is a loss that will undoubtedly be shared by many.
James Waites took his last swim at Coogee Beach on 12/2/2014. I met him only a year ago, though I'd been reading his work much longer than that. I read his contentious run of reviews on the Sydney Morning Herald and The Bulletin, and I started reading his intermittent but fascinating writings on jameswaites.com, and occasionally entering into the brawling in the comments. It was one such contact in the comments where I mentioned I wouldn't be able to see the sold-out Canberra season of "The Secret River" ... where James kindly contacted me and offered me a ticket if I was prepared to host him for a night. I did, we saw it, the review is on this site for anybody who cares to read it ... and we had extensive conversations about theatre, about life, about what he'd seen and experienced, about the world he'd lived through, his current work recording interviews for the National Library, about his involvement with Mardi Gras and about, inevitably, his health problems. I later got a chance to drop round his place in Surry Hills a few times, and to host him again for the July production of "Hipbone Sicking Out". He mattered hugely to me.
Naoné Carrel I'd known for over 7 years. It probably comes as no surprise to readers of the blog that, yes, I do have an association with Canberra Repertory. And Naoné is a key reason why that association went from "vaguely liking their shows and appearing on stage finally in one of them" to "ending up doing all kinds of things with them from crewing to front of house to a brief run of set building". She spread the invitation gratefully and made it impossible for me to consider anywhere else my natural Canberra Theatre home. She engaged, she cajoled, she occasionally micromanaged but she cared deeply and fiercely. Losing her is a loss that will undoubtedly be shared by many.
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