David Williamson?

Today, DW (as he is affectionately known... maybe... by anyone who might be affectionate of him) has made it clear that he feels ill at ease with the direction that STC and indeed theatre in general is heading. He is uncomfortable with a perceived shift of focus towards the director as auteur and chief artist involved in theatrical production, citing Barrie Kosky as main offender. He instead falls back on facts and figures, insinuating that the 20 million dollars he has made for the STC must count for something. Anyway read the article and decide for yourself.

Earlier this evening, in a fit of rage I described him to a friend as "an irrelevant, upper class, self serving tit mouse." and went on to infer that he was "a backwards, stagnated and audience pandering fool".... but maybe that was a little harsh.

Any thoughts?

Mark.

project:ALICE | Review

project:ALICE was a mixed bag combining club culture, fashion, spoken word art and audiovisual elements to re make Lewis Carroll’s novel for Generation Y, using their (read our/my) experiences to reinterpret this classic work. Under the direction of Mark Haslam, performance poets Bravo Child and Cook ‘n’ Kitch embody in verse, monologue and hip hop an explosion of Alice’s character, searching for contemporary resonances with the “over stimulated generation”. This Alice is a club hopper, a pill popper, a traveler not a tourist, a myspace junkie and pretty fucked up as well.

The technical elements were superb, Toby Knyvett’s lighting design consisting of a semicircle of large poles with evenly spaced lights filling up the space, as if plucked directly from the Big Day Out, which functioned not just to light the performers but also as a constant counterpart to the pulsing rhythm of the sound design. The AV was (shock) brilliantly interwoven into the work as a multifaceted interface of televisions and computer monitors, vision was streamed live to it from mobile phones, the performers interacted with each other on the screens, a butterfly of light flitted across them and their unhealthy blue glow lit much of the action onstage. It was exciting to see the technology working inseparably from the work, instead of being a lazy tack on (see Ladybird review).

The performers were obviously more in their comfort zones when delivering poetry and relying simply on the pattern of words in their mouths without labouring them with actorly intention, which was a pity since it made the more personal moments of Alice’s monologues seem melodramatic. At these moments where I could have related to her experiences I balked. This was perhaps why I took such an issue with this work in the end.

I have a major problems with a work trying to define me, the blanket term Generation Y sits uncomfortably on my shoulders. By trying to tap into a zeitgeist the work ultimately became quite alienating and I left thinking that it just wasn’t made for me, but then maybe I need to club on pills more often. The closing moments offered not much more than the feeling of ‘we’re all individuals and it’s ok to be you’, which I found slightly naïve. It touched on contemporary malaise, listlessness and boredom, but I wanted to see this notion held up and examined, not put aside for Facebook jokes and more things that rhyme with clitoris. I don’t think the solution is that easy.

Mark

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I didn’t feel as affronted by the content of this show. I felt the piece presented a mash-up of what the artists involved consider to be “Gen Y Experience” but at no point did it attempt to convince me that these were my experiences, although at times I found myself in them. A message of individualism emerged in the final scenes, however I engaged more with the striking word play it was embedded in, and came away from the piece with a sense of the stories and experiences, rather than the ideals, that were presented.

That being said, I dropped in and out of this performance and I think this was due mainly to the performances. In the beginning I was alienated by both performers. I found Bravo Child’s voice to be harsh and grating to the ear, whilst Cook ‘n’ Kitch seemed simply, for want of a better word, loud. I got the feeling I was being yelled at but wasn’t quite sure what I’d done to deserve it. As the show progressed, it became apparent that for Bravo, this had been a choice as he explored pretty much the entire range of his voice over the course of the performance, but for Cook ‘n’ Kitch, the volume continued. However, due to her complete dedication this became less of an issue. I found it fascinating watching two performers who completely owned what they were presenting. Cook ‘n’ Kitch’s "throw myself at every moment" style was often engaging, but it seemed to hinder the more nuanced moments of the show as Mark has already pointed out. When the performance and text matched the show was gripping. However, there were many times when the performers’ over the top style seemed to jar with the text and as a result I was immediately alienated.

A special mention needs to be made of the beautiful scene when Alice, unable to piece herself back together, climbs to the top of the jungle gym and lashes out at a TV resulting in a downpour of tiny crystals. It was a stunning image.

What is exciting about this work as an emerging artist however is the process. The play was devised by director Mark Haslam and the performers themselves. There are no actors in this work, you are often watching the writers themselves deliver the text, and all this is performed on an ethereal set which at times seemed as small as a TV screen and at others as large as a warehouse. The result was a raw work full of energy, which created some truly beautiful and some truly awkward moments but this is the nature of brave concepts. I enjoyed the risk.

Simon

Review: Travesties (Sydney Theatre Company)

There is no doubt that Travesties is a great play written by a great playwright. It is the perfect example of what Stoppard does so well – taking a series of highly intellectual concepts and boiling them down into an entertaining, yet none the less didactic work of theatre. He takes the theories that we performance students struggle to incorporate into our essays, in this case about the purpose of art and its place in society, and weaves them seamlessly into plays digestible to the theatre-going public. His latest work “Rock ‘n’ Roll” was met last year with mixed reviews, however this play displays Stoppard in his finest hour – as the marketing is so desperate to tell us.

There is also no doubt that the actors who took part in this particular production were of a high quality. Each executed their character to a great standard, with Toby Schmitz’s Tristan Tsara being the standout for me, although this may have been more due to the success of costume designer Julie Lynch. Stoppard’s clever words flowed out of the performers at a great speed, but with great clarity, and at no point did I feel the length of the piece, which is quite significant for a two and half hour show.

The only problem I had was that I couldn’t help but feel that if the same actors had simply been given the text without direction, they would have come up pretty much the same show. I understand that directorial restraint is often a choice made to enhance the beauty of the text itself, perhaps the most striking recent example being the first hour of Benedict Andrews’ “The War Of The Roses”, however I felt that this was not the case with Travesties. I was so sure that the busy set decorated with text from “The Important Of Being Ernest”, and placed on a revolve was desperately trying to convey something, I was just never quite sure what. At times I wondered if the revolve was simply an easy way out of having to incorporate two sets which can easily morph between one another. The exception to this confusion being the arresting moments when “Dada” was projected across the stage as Tsara threw the crockery about.

In the end, it is Tom Stoppard’s name that is on the poster, but it is disappointing that director Richard Cottrell didn’t try and earn a place alongside it. This is perhaps the major difference between the work that I feel impacts greatly on my practice and the shows that I simply enjoy. Between work that is directed and plays that are merely staged.

Review: Metamorphosis (Vesturport Theatre/Lyric Hammersmith)

Franz Kafka’s novella where a man awakens to find he has transformed into a giant insect has been reimagined in many mediums since its original publication in 1915. Its latest internationally successful incarnation, a co-production between Iceland’s Vesturport Theatre and England’s Lyric Hammersith, conjures the mood of a Grimm fairy tale to explore the fable as an allegory for Jewish experience in 20th century Europe.

Metamorphosis’ clever design is integral to its success. Börkur Jónsson’s split-level set is striking, shifting Gregor’s upstairs room 90º so we are looking down on his furniture from above. I was not surprised to learn from one of the performers that the set was built in the rehearsal room early on in the process, as it has been fully taken advantage of by directors David Farr and Gísli Örn Gardarsson, with Gregor’s newfound insect form moving intimately throughout the space. The startling images this produces are supported by Björn Helgason’s measured lighting design, and the atmosphere is created throughout by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis’ unsettling soundtrack.


However, it is Björn Thors’ bravura performance as Gregor that is the true focus of this show. From the moment he emerges from his straightjacket like bed, it is hard to take in anything other than his acrobatic movements within the warped environment of his family home. Whether it be crawling down the railing of the stairs, or simply sitting in a horizontal chair as if were nothing, the physical demands of the role are truly astounding. In the original production, the role was played by Gardarsson, co-adaptor/director, and it therefore must have been quite intimidating for Thors to take on, yet not a hint of this is ever revealed as he owns the stage throughout, with the family left feeling like a strong supporting cast. This doesn’t necessarily serve the story however, as it is the family’s response to Gregor’s condition which is the thematic focal point of the work.

Speaking of thematic, I couldn’t help but wonder whether we really needed another investigation of Jewish mistreatment, a topic which has already been explored at great length since the horrors of World War II. It seemed to me an odd choice to apply the story to the past given the current proliferation of fear throughout many first world nations. In the Sydney Morning Herald, director David Farr commented that he wanted the work to be open, as theatre should be a conversation, however I felt that among other things, the exaggerated gestures of the family and the father’s overt love of uniform made it hard to escape the references to Nazi Germany.

It is a credit to the work that my frustration with the interpretation did not stop me from engaging with the production. I thought that it was a rare example of ingenious design combining harmoniously with strong performances and a clear directorial vision. It is perhaps due to the show’s quality that I was so perturbed I didn’t share in this vision.

-Simon

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I’m a little more critical than that.

This production is the love child of amateurish bourgeois naturalism and lame 80’s physical theatre. I found the performances mannered and irritating, the set design pointlessly detailed and distracting and as for the gimmicky 90° angled upstairs trickery, putting aside the obvious strength it took Björn Thors to achieve the images I was never impressed by the strength of the images themselves. For a production which has been garnering praise for its physical verve and ingenuity (most recently by Simon Binns, see above), it felt as if it had run out of its bag of theatrical tricks too soon. The first half of the performance is basically only sustained by waiting to see how Gregor the insect will next use his environment and even the introduction of a trampoline, the removal of furniture to climb on and tearing a way down through the upper level floor is not consistently surprising enough. Once again I stress that I was impressed by the strength of the performer but not with the images themselves.

The piece was momentarily lifted by the presence of a prospective lodger for the family home Herr Fischer (Jonathan McGuinness), whose performance seemed to invigorate the other actors, or perhaps that was the presence of a clear cut dramatic situation with conflict and the promise of comedy. Sit-com stuff but certainly more entertaining than anything else that happened.

It seems problematic also for David Farr to speak of the piece being read as allegory for the 19th century Jewish experience, when considering that Kafka wrote this short story in 1915, twenty to thirty years before the Nazi’s came to power. Now don’t get me wrong, I am aware and a firm believer in the right of a director and company to reflect and interpret as they will, I’m certainly not advocating a kind of textual sanctity, I am not a bloodless, unimaginative stickler who complains when Shakespeare is performed with anything other than complete historical accuracy. I am simply questioning, just as Simon has, the relevance of this particular understanding of the work.

If David Farr considered the piece “open” and wished for it to be a “conversation”, why then did he refer to the Jewish experience at all, why not let us see it as we will? As the family dealing with a gay member (the monster closeted upstairs), the corrupting and transformative powers of economics or, like I did, as a mediocre and fairly irrelevant work with nothing much interesting to say nor a way of saying it interestingly.

Mark.

Review: Concussion (Sydney Theatre Company/Griffin Theatre Company)

Concussion tried to do a lot. From the meta-theatrics, which permeated throughout to the dancing scene changes scored by modern rock songs and a storyline that we discovered in reverse it was always pushing for something greater, something cooler. Unfortunately in this production, I don’t think that vision was achieved. The play began with the central character, Julia addressing the audience to explain that she was taking it upon herself to ensure that we didn’t witness yet another tragedy. Her plan was to take hold of the action and give us a sexy comedic romp. Sadly, this break into reality simply didn’t feel real, and instead of being engaged and intrigued by Rachel Gordon’s performance, I was immediately alienated. If the piece had continued in this vein I probably would have walked away disappointed, but once we got past the unnecessary setting up of the stage by the actors, a moment which seemed to lack any dramatic purpose, everything solidified.

Ross Mueller’s dialogue is very strong, and once the scenes began, the momentum rarely let up. Particularly impressive were brothers Luke and Chris Ryan as the brothers James Junior and James Junior Junior. What could have been disregarded as a piece of novelty casting, produced some of the most memorable moments of the production as we watched how their relationship had deteriorated. The staging allowed for the vignettes to flow seamlessly in and out of each other, and as the story emerged the connections between each character became more and more engaging. It was then quite jarring when the action was halted by the few scene changes that were accompanied by blasting rock songs and exaggerated physical action. These moments that I assume were meant to heighten the tension and emotion, had the opposite effect of slowing down the play and giving the audience time to resettle. It seemed in these moments that the production was caught between the reality of the scenes and the perceived need for stylisation due to the text’s meta-theatrics.

It was in these confused moments that one got the feeling the play was trying just a little too hard. This feeling was strengthened by Julia’s direct address about fellating herself in her dreams. This production was unable to take advantage of the opportunities offered by these non-naturalistic moments and instead they served only to clutter and confuse the narrative rather than build or enhance it. Fortunately the strength of the text and the performances, with a couple of exceptions, carried the action past this, and left me excited by the experience of this new Australian work.

Simon

Review: Ladybird(B Sharp/small things productions)

By Vassily Sigarev. Translated by Sasha Dugale.

The strength of Ladybird was in the language, adapted or localised by Ian Meadows and the company to match the casual, violent and limited vocabulary of any group of kids in town on a Thursday night. “I just, like, kept kicking him for like fifteen minutes, ay.” This simple approach made this Anti-Putin Russian play feel more crucial and important to our context than any Australian play recently programmed at B Sharp. As it was adapted by the company, the actors seem to really own the language, which contributes to some truly excellent performances, specifically Sophie Ross as Lera and Ian Meadows as Dima.

The coarseness and brutality of the language is reflected in the design by Justin Nardella, the stage rakes up with a construct of junk, a mess of TV’s, antiques and take away food wrappings. While this does make for some interesting playing spaces, for the most part the set is completely superfluous and at worst rather distracting from the realities of the language. The TV’s embedded in the set flicker on and off with AV that has no bearing on the performance and really seems like an attempt to incorporate vision for visions sake. Yes, indeed we are living in a world of advertising, shock! Far more effective would the play have been if we were allowed to just engage with these ‘cool’ young actors and the text standing alone.

In terms of affecting my emerging practice, Ladybird highlights the problems inherent to incorporating design in theatre. Where is the line between an illuminating and beautiful design that is inseparable to the action of a performance and a pointless add on that is tacted on to a text? I’m certainly not sure yet. It is to Ladybird’s credit that this split was so obvious, for I would not have been able to make this distinction if the texts adaption were not so keen and so dazzling.

Mark.

Ps. Also. Herbal Cigarettes? I was frustrated by this claustrophobic party not smelling anything like one. In fact it smelt more like a Body Shop, or a room full of incense. I say to hell with the audiences sensitive nostrils, give us the real smell of decay.

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I disagree almost completely about the set being superfluous. Rather than take away from the realities of the language, the set offered the perfect frame, its overbearing nature highlighting how all these coarse, brutal characters are merely products of their harsh environment. It allowed for the simplest of scene changes and the two “trick” moments, where Slavik disappeared through a newly discovered hole in the ground and then again through the fridge door, were just magic. The only element I found to be tiresome were the TVs, which I agree felt quite token, as if they had been added late and not fully explored. However, their being switched off added a nice accent to the final moments of the play, certainly a much nicer effect than the half-hearted attempt at snow falling that was simply not required.

Overall, I thought the show was outstanding, with remarkable performances of a fascinating text. An exciting start to the next section of the B Sharp season.

Simon

Review: Killing Don

Killing Don (evolution of a memory) is a really great party. Free nibblies and beer/wine, sheshah, piñatas and a killer DJ. To enter, you ring the doorbell and are welcomed by the hosts, your picture is taken and you are shown around the place, a huge Bay 12 at Carriageworks, decked out with a few spare lounge sets, party lights, the aforementioned piñata and long strands of unwound video tape hanging from the ceiling. You get comfortable, you meet people, maybe you have a quick dance. From then on, just like at all good parties, things start to get a little strange.

The audience (partygoers) are treated to a gradually swelling series of images, which overlap and surround us. A karaoke performance gone wrong, a brief sexual fumbling on a fold out couch, an awkward speech and a slap on the back. With these comes the projected images of a couple on a mattress and a slideshow of photos from the night. The effect of this is to immerse the audience in a kind of dream logic, or rather a drunk logic. Most effectively illustrated by the passion pop skulling competition, which leaves the performers quite sozzled and a bit red faced for the last section of the show. Kudos to Luke Holmes for completely dominating in that race. As the party ends we're in much the same condition as the performers, drunk on wine, images and excellent tunes. Walking to the train station afterwards I can't really recall much of what happened but it doesn't mater. As Malcolm Whittaker, one of the hosts, proclaims in his welcoming speech. "It's not about all those things. It's about the moment you know!"

Team MESS are a group of young UOW graduates and Killing Don is a work that gestated throughout 2008. First with a Performance Space residency, then at Quarterbred, Underbelly Arts Lab and UOW. This version of the work, programmed in the Performance Space season, is the culmination of their various showings and workshops. It still has the vibe of a showing somewhat; with the nuts and wine, certain sections dragging on too long and the introduction acknowledging all those who helped get the work up and running. In a different context this could have been a problem, but considering it was a "members only free event" it didn't feel as if it mattered all that much.

As a recent graduate company, Team Mess are a good example of what making the right connections and writing inordinate number of applications can get you. From a student perspective it reinforces the necessity to learn the language of applications, to research past recipients and so on. All those mock grants and tortured group work seem a lot more important than the 20 or so percent they are worth in our course work. Hopefully all the experience writing them means that Team Mess will get the opportunity to continue to develop as a company.



Mark