Short and Sweet, Top 20 Week 1, Courtyard Studio

Theatrical Yum-cha is back! The current round of Short and Sweet seems the strongest I've seen yet, with plenty of clever, amusing, intriguing, thoughtful pieces in there.

"Sex Tape" (written and directed by Evan Croker) begins promisingly - Katarina Thane's "She" owns the stage in her confident lustyness and John Lombard's embarrassed "He" is suitably awkward. It does suffer slightly from a "seven minute mark authors statement" syndrome -  the characters start to be lost a tad and become mouthpieces rather than individuals - but it at least has a nicely startling final image.

"The Runner" (by Wayne Mitchell, directed by Heidy Perri) doesn't play quite as strongly - possibly because the characters are so written on one level, the plot developments remain obvious and there isn't a lot to the material. There's a couple of nice moments (Maurice Dowling and Penelope Vaile's face-off-tango moves, in particular) but this doesn't quite flow.

Genevieve Kenneally's "Potato Whore" is strongly staged and a good execution of a simple but clever idea. Alison McGregor and Scott Rutar score strongly and stably as the protagonists, with Rhys Hekiman and Laura Griffin playing well around them, and the direction is strong, physical and visually interesting. I'm not entirely sure the writing quite knows what to do with the additional characters (Kellie Seccull's Zooey may have been better as a one-moment cameo, and John Lombard's Professor doesn't really add to the piece so much as ... is just there crowding up the stage) but it resolves nicely.

"A.N.X.I.E.T.Y" (written and directed by Ben Harris) is a good break in the male-female-relationship stuff that's dominated the first half - it's very much a fully-staged piece using all the elements of light, sound and the space of the stage. Cara Matthew's terrified Evelyn draws the audience in, while Sarah Michelle Thomson's Hunter is suitably freaky. There's a slightly messy resolution involving Neil Parikh's Konrad where the script seems to be drawing in an entire other field of plot too late (wait, is she scared because she's flying or because of this relationship?) and there isn't quite an easy chemistry between Matthews and Parikh to help this to work, but it's one of the more impressively staged pieces of the night.

"Sacred Profane" (written and directed by Kirsty Budding) isn't the strongest piece - it's attempting to write about a taboo topic, but it's simultaneously over-written and doesn't have a particularly strong or new insight into the topic. Also, a two hander really lives or dies on its performances, and unfortunately I don't think Terry Johnson's teacher is really up to snuff - he talks about strain and angst but it's never really felt by the audience.

"The Lady who peeps out from behind a folding screen" has a nice slow simplicity to it that contrasts well with the rest of the evening - a lot of the effect is deliberatley visual. John Lombard's simple script is well illustrated by Alison McGregor's directing, and Arne Sjostedt's music and the makeup from Chole Dodgson, Helen Braund and Kim Kerby really help with the mood and the style. Genevieve Kenneally's "Lady" is suitably intriguing and shy, Stevan Savic's Samurai has that gruff protagonist thing working for him, Monique Suna's Maid is witty and impudent, and the mean-geisha trio of Michelle Cooper, Joshua Bell and Katie Woodward are a great addition.

"Death in Ten minutes" (by Joachim Emilio, directed by Petra Lindsay) is meta-to-the-extreme but keeps on finding new levels to disappear down the rabbit hole. Tse-Yee Teh's "Zleen" is stronger as playful sidekick than the somewhat bombastic X.O of David Weisner, but all in all this is reasonably amusing.

"Triple Nought" is an impro piece devised and performed by the trio of Catherine Crowley, Ruth Pieloor and Heidi Silberman. On this particular night, the setups and developments tended to play stronger than the resolution with a lot of great ideas being thrown out but not all of them resolving particularly cleanly, which is a slight risk in impro pieces - but other nights I can see this one really flying.

"Black Coffee" (by Deanna Ableser, directed by Liliana Bogato) is unfortunately a fairly static piece and spends a lot of time analysing what should be a fairly simple decision. Lucy Bates sells her side of the storytelling reasonably well but there's a little too much fussy staging with props (I'm not entirely sure why Don Smith leaves without his laptop, for example), and it fails to really stick.

"Business Meeting" (written and directed by Ryan Pemberton) is a suitably ridiculous ending to the evening - Brendan Kelly's high-energy performance centres the piece strongly with Tom Short's acquiesent Shan hilarious in response and Mitch Gosling playing the straight man well.

All in all it's a cleverly mixed evening with thrills, laughs and drama a-plenty. A good launch to the season.

Edited to add:  "Business meeting" won both the audience and the judges voting. Also through from the judges voting for this round were Triple Nought and Sacred profane. The other audience choice was "Potato Whore".

Arcadia, Canberra Rep

Tom Stoppard's "Arcadia" is one of his finest plays. It combines deep thought about maths, history, literature and the certain heat death of the universe with a fair few sex jokes (often very witty sex jokes). It's that rare play with both heart AND brains and offers a theatrical feast for the brain and the soul.

Rep's production captures much of this feast and serves it up in fine style. There's a rich variety of performances - from the youngest, Jack Taylor doing double duty as the shy, silent Gus (whose physicality speaks volumes) and the snidely brattish Lord Augustus, to the oldest, Graeme Robertson, whose Jellaby serves up the dryest of dry commentary with perfection and perfectly timed pauses and sniffs.

In between those ages we find two collections of casts. In the 19th century, there's Amelia Green, whose Thomasina is sharp and intelligent yet still the unknowing innocent in so many areas; Matthew Barton as Septimus, her tutor, rakish, sly, yet increasingly bewildered by his pupil; Helen McFarlane, ever the grand lady of the manor; Colin Milner's perfectly blustery, easily flattered and slow-on-the-uptake Chater; David Kavanagh's stiff-upper-lip Captain Brice and Arran McKenna's befuddled and bemused architect, Noakes. In the 20th, Laine Hart's sharply incisive Hannah leads the way, supported by Pat Gallagher's terrifyingly self-confident Bernard; Sam Hannan-Morrow's knowledgeable but heart-sore Valentine and Sian Harrington's bubbly Chole.

It's a rich team who keep a long (close to 3 hours) play flying by with sharp twists, turns and counterplots as events from one timeline start to influence the other in all kinds of unexpected ways - with so many telling small details that a second glance is recommended. The unexpectedly moving finale had my heart skipping a beat. Quentin Mitchell's grand set is capable of close intimacy and broad spread from moment to moment, assisted by the able lighting of Chris Ellyard. Neil McRitchie's sound design combines classical music from the 19th century with all kinds of delightful cheese from 1993, and Michael F. Coady's piano work fits in delightfully.Helen Drum's costuming crosses periods with aplomb.

All in all this is a delightful rich mental pudding of an evening.

The Burning, Everyman Theatre, The Q

Duncan Ley is the finest working playwright in Canberra. Fullstop. I'm sorry if that insults others, but ... the crown is his. Come back again when you've written as many heartfelt, strong, dynamic plays as his and we'll talk again.

"The Burning" is his first play that got a wide audience, a tale of 17th century German witchtrials with a strong fathers-and-sons thematic underneath, and ... no, it's not his best play - it does slightly smack of melodrama (and dressing one set of father-and-sons all in black with a lot of leather kinda empahsises the point), plus the courtroom events in act two draw strongly on other courtroom dramas more than anything that would ever happen in an actual courtroom - but it shows a strong capable writing mind producing strong, propulsive drama. It's engaging from the gentle, witty beginning to the shockingly twisted end, and, for a story that is strongly dependent on torture and violence, all the violence is kept carefully offstage, described rather than presented, but no less chilling in its effect (as always, it ends up being more-so as there's nothing creepier than the audience's imagination).

In the context of his later play's, it's intriguing how his common themes of power, guilt and the place of his character's in their wider society are all here - just that his most recent works have moved away from the period settings of plays like "The Burning" and "When in Rome" into modernity of "Home at the End" and "The Ides of March". If I prefer the more recent works it may be because the historicism plays a little as a crutch - a way of borrowing authority rather than earning it.

It seems somewhat unfair that fate, as well as making Duncan Ley the finest working playwright in Canberra, should also make him an astoundingly good actor. In the role of Ernst Vasolt he refuses ever to fall into an easy pattern, with every line of dialogue, and every movement drawing the audience in. He can gently throw away lines casually, only to turn and smash the next phrase into the audience. It's impossible to take your eyes from him when he comes to play.

Astonishingly, Jack Parker, who plays Frances Schiller, is still in high school. Astonishingly because he more than stands his own with actors of senior authority, presenting a compassionate, emotive, deep, performance  - it's a major mainstage debut and I doff my hat.

Amy Dunham has that strange gift of being instantly loveable as soon as she appears on stage.In her opening bickering with Parker, she's fast and clever, and the two of them have great chemistry together with that feel of a real, strong, binding relationship. Her final exit from the play (late in act one) also sees her launch herself off the stage in a way that seems astonishingly reckless (but I have no doubt is carefully choreographed for her own safety) - she amazes me.

In a major break from his usual typecasting as a beamingly charming fella, Will Huang is pure concentrated twisted rage as Frederick Vasolt - he gets astonishing effects just from holding a knife, or chewing an apple off a crowbar. He is, in the best way possible, thoroughly disturbing.

Jarrad West ... isn't as strong as he might be as Phillip Schiller. There are moments when his strength comes through - the declaration "I love my son more than I love my god", or his involvement in the trial scene - but there are other moments when it doesn't seem he's truly feeling the complex emotions that lie within Schiller - his characterisation occasionally seems to come from the script rather than from the heart. West is one hell of an actor, and this may be an awkward mix of performer and role, but it's the one piece that didn't really land with me.

Geoffrey Borny shows strength and will as the unfortunate Johannes Junius. Tony Turner projects easy authority but is unfortunately not always on top of his lines. And Peter Holland celebrates a victory lap of a great year for drunk acting (after his sublime Aguecheek) in the early scenes before becoming an easily bamboozled magistrate in the later scenes.

Duncan Driver's directing keeps the show pacey, strongly presentational, and builds the tension nicely. Tim Hansen's music gives the play a strong underbeat and maintains that tension and energy without being intrusive into the action.

In short, this is fine work performed excellently by a company on the top of their game. Well worth the trek out to Queanbeyan.

Cabaret, Canberra Philharmonic

Back to the slightly-chlorinated foyer of the Erindale theatre, and Phlharmonic's latest addition to the crowded schedule of Canberra musicals. And it's a goodie - Kander and Ebb's story of 1920s Berlin on the verge of historic disaster combines strong songs with a story of dramatic import.

Unfortunately, the version chosen for performance is the 1987 revision, not the one currently playing Broadway (nor is it the original version). Cabaret is one of those shows that has an iconic film version that doesn't completely resemble the show it's adapted from, meaning that subsequent revivals have tried to insert the songs from the film as much as possible. In this case, the revision also tried to plum up the romantic plotline between Cliff and Sally in ways that I don't quite think work - some gestures towards Cliff's bisexuality (given Christopher Isherwood, the historical analogue of Cliff, was exclusively gay), and an added song (since cut in subsequent revisions), "Don't Go". Unfortunately, there really isn't much to be done to make Cliff particularly interesting - he's better as an observer than as a dramatic participant, and his song is banal. Trying to expand his role only leads to the first act being a slightly butt-numbing 100 minutes - this desperately needs to be tighter than it is.

There's also one or two unfortunate directorial decisions - in particular, several of the songs are delivered in a flat, "stand and sing" style where the performers stay stuck to the spot in ways that feel un-natural - like the director hasn't gotten around to giving them any blocking. Ros Engledow's Frauline Schneider is a particular victim of this - both her solos suffer from cement-feet.

Central to any Cabaret is its Emcee, our somewhat untrustworthy guide through the world of 1920's Berlin. Angel Dolejsi delivers an intriguing angle on the character - less a satyr and more a clown, one who's slightly endearing, and who becomes during the course of the show more and more alienated from his surroundings and less convinced of the songs he's singing and jokes he's telling. It's a cleverly informed performance.

Kelly Roberts provides a Sally Bowles who is suitably fascinating, gossipy, funny, heartbreaking and exasperating - projecting both the outward confidence and her inward insecurity. Again, she's somewhat sabotaged by external elements - the combination of her costume and lighting at the beginning of "Mein Herr" do not show her off to best advantage (this isn't a costume made for silloutette), and her version of "Cabaret is damaged by having her concluding the song in an overly-tight-follow spot while a set change goes on behind her, and by not having nearly the motivation it should have (I've seen the song placed in other productions after her final scene with Cliff, and without that lead up there's not the sense that she's working out and defying all her problems in the middle of the song). So she's merely good when she could have been spectacular with better support.

Ian Croker makes me a liar again - I've said previously that he's most interesting when he has a hint of evil around him. His Herr Schultz has no hints of evil, and is loveable without being cloying, and remains fascinating. Engledow matches him as her firm exterior melts when confronted by his kindness - and their breakup is heartbreaking.

Dave Smith's Ernst is suitably genial as required, although keeping him as the only person wearing a coat at the end of act one means that too much of a hint is given as to his secret. Kitty McGarry's Frauline Kost is similarly sharp and petty in ways that become darker as the show progresses (it's a pity her character virtually disappears in Act Two).

I've criticised a range of Jim McMullen's directorial decisions, and I should point out that, as many as fail, several others succeed - his use of Doleji in some of the non-cabaret scenes is particularly adroit. His musical direction needs no such criticism - his band is tight and sounds great. Similarly, the design (shared between McMullen and Croker) manages to make the sometimes-awkward Erindale stage play wonderfully, with a good sense of height and space.

This is, let me point out, one of the all-time-classic musicals, done in a very good production. It's not excellent, and there are flaws... but it certainly rewards close watching.

Hedda Gabler, Belvoir

The Belvoir method of reinvigorating the classics, giving them a fresh lick of paint and contemporising their outlook, is not universally popular. And, to be fair, it is not a universal panacea - while keeping it contemporary can be a way to let the cast and audience into the production, the director is still responsible for keeping the show lively and engaging.

Unfortunately, Adena Jacobs' production of "Hedda Gabler" fails this in the opening five minutes. She's way too fond of her own stage images (long, silent scenes before the dialogue of Ibsen's play begins, breaking up between scenes), and her stage pictures just aren't fascinating enough to stare at for ages to reward the length of time we're left to examine them. The pace of the play (and this is a substantially cut text - 90 minutes long in total) never really recovers from this particular directorial self-indulgence.

The where and when is also quite messy in some of the other details. Why does the car have American number plates? Jacobs' program note suggests that it's about the American dream, but ... frankly, a bored trophy wife like Hedda feels just at home on the north shore of Sydney as she does in California, and the choice not to use American accents means that any American gesture is minor.

Ibsen's drama does peek through and there are redeeming moments here and there. Ash Flanders' Hedda does reflect a couple of the angles of Hedda - a ridiculously rich role, simultaneously a wild monster of a woman and a wimp, whose fantasies of conquest and destruction are brought flat by her decision to make a comfortable marriage to a mediocre academic. He plays the role distinctly as a female (including an impressive tuck during his nude scene) but there is a point at which his portrayal of Hedda's boredom with life does read as distinctly boring in itself - though part of this is a production problem, and part of this is Jacob's somewhat clunky translation.

As for the rest of the cast, Marcus Graham's Brack comes across best - it's when he's working his way around Hedda and insinuating himself into her life that the show really comes to best advantage. There's a delightfully congenially-predatory quality that Graham brings to the character that keeps him endlessly watchable. Oscar Redding's Lovborg is suitably intense and mercurial, Anna Huston's Thea keeps the character from being too much the easy-victim, and Tim Walter's Tesman keeps the character as he should be, a friendly, studious but not particularly interesting man (I've seen Hedda's suffer from Tesman's who wanted to be interesting).  Lynette Curran is pretty much wasted as Aunt Julie with nothing to really get a handle on, and Branden Christine's Berthe is given one of the worst modernist cliches, the maid who is required to stare silently at the rest of the characters and silently judge them - no, it isn't an interesting thing to do with the maid characters in classical literature - they're small parts, stop trying to make them bear weight they're not meant to.

I appreciated the production in the sense that it gave me a chance to think about Ibsen's play. But I don't think it's a particularly good production of the material.

Legally Blonde, Free Rain Theatre, ANU Arts Centre

It's been a while since I've reviewed a Free Rain show - in fact, the last time I did was their production of "Cats" back in 2012 (my first review!) And they've certainly been growing as a company - their production of "Phantom" last year was, like it or not, a landmark in local theatre last year (getting local amateur musicals back on the main stage of the Canberra Theatre is not to be sniffed at).

And there's a whole heap to praise in this show. First of all, the show itself  -I love large chunks of Lawrence O'Keefe and Nell Benjamin's score - it's bouncy, bubbly material, with a kinda 80's musical styling full of witty lyrics. Heather Hach's book moves efficiently across the plot, feeling pretty much "Just Like The Movie" - although it does slightly bog down in the legal-trial shenanigans of Act Two (it may be partially that Elle's journey of discovering her self-worth is pretty much done by the end of Act One, so there's not really a lot of internal movement outside of plot shenanigans to drive the show).

Next, the cast. Do I believe that the only option was to cast an interstate professional as Elle? Well, I'll just say that the cast also includes Jenna Roberts, Vanessa de Jager, Laura Dawson and Michelle Norris and leave it at that. But if we're going to have to do that (and it may have been a contractual requirement for the rights), Mikayla Williams is charming, funny, engaging, dances wonderfully and sings pretty good too (though her voice was obviously tiring by the end of Act One - still, she's barely offstage during the entire show and she was back on pitch in Act Two, so a temporary lapse can be forgiven).

Jenna Roberts is Jenna Roberts. Which means ... well, my theatre-crush on her just extended again. Her gloriously, goofily ridiculous, adorable, ever-so-slightly-trashy Paulette is welcome whenever she appears on stage, particularly when singing "Ireland", possibly the most ridiculously whimsical song of the score.

Damon Grebert-Wade is a suitably snotty Warner, although there's just enough of a hint as to why he might be likeable underneath to not make Elle's attraction to him ridiculous. Brian Kavanaugh is sleezy, jazzy perfection as the slimy Professor Calaghan. Dave Evans' Emmett is likable but ... maybe it's a problem with me having seen too many musicals, but this is very much a photostat Dave Evans performance (I've seen that "clutch the chest and look into the middle distance and belt the note" movement too many times before) and there's never really a lot of chemistry between him and Williams, which is a pity. Sarah Darnley-Stuart's Vivienne is delightfully snotty when required and equally generous when required to be, however her singing voice feels a bit too "trained" - I don't know that this should be a role that needs collatura sounds, and her vocals don't mix well with the rest of the cast.

Elsewhere in the cast, David Cannell's three cameos stick out for particular attention as being delightful cartoons, similarly Zack Drury's Kyle arouses repeated hysteria (and he even gets a chance to unleash his comedy-legs). Special mention to Bella as Bruiser and particularly Mosey as Rufus, who are quite adorable and most importantly don't bite any of the cast.

Nick Griffin's musical direction is tight and sharp - this is a well drilled cast and band working at peak power. Michelle Heine's choreography is similarly skilled - I have no idea how the cast has quite that much energy but I'm glad they get a chance to show it all off. The set is a combination of Steve and Susie Walsh's architecture (which is adaptable, clever and gives the cast multiple useful playing areas) and Chris Pitcairn's AV design (which, again, indicates the tone with witty cartoonishness). Fiona Leach's costumes are all wonderful (I'm not entirely sure how you get danceable low-crotch pants for the Jamaican bit of "What You Want" but I'm glad she found them) - whether tacky or couture, they reflect character, mood and style.

Chris Neal's sound design needs polishing - in the opening number I had no idea which cast member was singing which line for large chunks of the song, and levels generally were pumped into the uncomfortable level of "loud" (to be fair, I was seated pretty much in prime blasting range of one of the speakers, but still).

So this is a show I love, done to a high degree of polish. It's good, friendly fun.

Showtune, Canberra Rep

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.