Posts Tagged ‘Independent Theatre

24
Oct
14

He Dreamed A Train

 

He Dreamed A Train

Brisbane Powerhouse & Metro Arts

Brisbane Powerhouse Visy Theatre

October 15 – 26 2014

 

Reviewed by Xanthe Coward

 

BPH_He_Dreamed_A_Train_6_2014-1177x663



On the weekend my friend and I were almost killed by a driver who, prompted by the green arrow, obviously, plunged straight ahead and directly into us from an inner right turning lane as I took the outer right turning lane in Bowen Hills on our way to Brisbane Powerhouse from the Sunshine Coast. (Usually the trip is just slow and frustrating due to roadworks!). Also, I sat through one of the most poorly written and unimaginatively staged plays I’ve ever had the misfortune to see (I know; everybody else thinks it’s brilliant! WTF?!), and I drove six hours in a day, to Toowoomba and back (I know; Kate Foy does it all the time!), to join my family as we said our final farewell to my lovely grandma. As I held Poppy in my arms and watched my grandma being laid to rest I remembered the shooting star I’d spotted on Friday night after returning home from the car accident that almost killed Dee and I, which also meant we’d missed the first ten minutes of He Dreamed A Train. It blazed across the sky for what seemed like forever to remind me that we are okay. And we are still here. And our time is precious. And that it is vital to experience theatre that changes us, rather than choose to suffer through theatre – or anything or anyone in life – that does nothing for us.

 
He Dreamed A Train (the title of the show is from Margi’s brother’s book of the same name) is about the reverie of remembrance, and honouring our memories… Mindfulness cannot be our mantra. There is a place for the past, and if we can resist staying there, if we can pull ourselves back into the present to live it fully, there are important lessons to be learned. Or not. And that’s why those lessons – the unlearned – continue to come at us.

 

 

Margi Brown Ash is a storyteller and teacher of the finest sort. Her delicious stories are slices of an extraordinary life, informed just as much by experience as by ancient myths and thrilling tales of heroes, dragons, kings, caves, and the power of gods and men.

 

 

BPH_He_Dreamed_A_Train_10_2014-1177x663

 

The combined creative forces of Margi Brown Ash, Travis Ash, and Benjamin Knapton means this company, Forces of Circumstance, lives up to its name, reviving notions of what contemporary theatre can look like, and sharing reverence for the traditions of oldschool storytelling. The forces of this circumstance are pretty powerful if you’re willing to listen.

 

Before there was ever a poor excuse for an animated film inspired by the book, Dr Seuss wrote The Lorax, and the magic of that opening, which I’ve heard read to me countless times, and read to hundreds of children over years of teaching is the mood established while we take our seats. Throughout the show there are the sounds of the Australian bush, evoking memories of my own. (I make a mental note: take in on Monday, my copy of The Lorax for our science unit, Save Planet Earth). Remember, we missed the first ten minutes of the show and Judy Hainsworth, that First World White Girl, acting as Brisbane Powerhouse usher extraordinaire, was obliged to keep us in the sound lock for a little while so my experience of the start of the show was the usual juggle of handbag, phone, wine (yes, you have time to check in and get to the bar when you’re late), and a short succession of single sounds; Margi’s gentle, soothing, telephone voice at one end of a conversation, footsteps and then static, at which point we were taken to our seats.

 

Note: If you are late to a show, don’t be uppity and expect to be seated after the show has started until a suitable break in the performance. Don’t be rude to the box office staff or the ushers. They’ve been told that a lock out period applies. This is a creative decision as much as it is a courtesy to the artists, and to the patrons who’ve arrived on time. There’s no need to begrudge anyone (ever). Everyone is doing his or her job. Ok? Ok.

 

Margi’s brother was diagnosed with a debilitating terminal illness, which changed everything and nothing. We journey with Margi and her son, Travis, in the role of her brother at the age of 23, to discover other worlds, the worlds in which they lost and found themselves as children, and then again as adults. These are compelling performances, gently guided by Knapton. I love the moments of furious pace (Travis Ash’s dramatic retelling of The Myth of Er, his impressive musicianship, and Margi’s moments of consternation as she sees her brother sitting, having fallen to the floor, waiting for anyone else but her to help him up) and the languid turns (Margi’s thoughts, spoken aloud as she wanders through the family home, not quite ever finishing packing the books into boxes and again, Travis Ash’s skill at the piano). We can’t help but join these two as they leap into paintings and their deepest memories. At just under 70 minutes, it’s a comparatively short show, and yet it feels like the longest time – time is stretched like a shooting star moment – in the presence of Margi Brown Ash & co.

 

BPH_He_Dreamed_A_Train_9_2014-1177x663

 

The increasingly difficult task these days of keeping an audience captivated is made easier in this circumstance by the seamless incorporation of sounds (Travis Ash) and images, which are thrown across walls and gradually, magically bring to life Hogwarts style, a painting of a landscape from another time and place (Nathan Sibthorpe, Freddy Komp & Benjamin Knapton). Though I don’t mind it, Dee can’t stand the static sound, and so we see it serve its purpose to challenge sensory perception and unsettle entirely. In stark contrast to the harsh static, we are both mesmerised as much by the misty, moving, changing and raining painting as we are by the performances. I leave this show feeling vulnerable, and uplifted, as if my child has revealed to me her special secret fairy wish and I just know I can make it come true before the fairy fades away and…well, I mean I hope I can.

 

 

The energy & momentum of the storytelling, its ebb and flow, the naturalness and grandeur of delivery, the rich vocal work and dramatic images cast by the actors’ physical states and their connection with each other, as well as the tech wizardry, make for a fascinating insight into the mind and heart of Margi Brown Ash, a true theatrical treasure.

 

 

He Dreamed A Train is one of the most challenging and entirely engrossing new works you’ll see this year. I’m sure it will have another life after this (Sweet!) Brisbane Powerhouse season (I’d love to see it come to the Sunshine Coast), but if you can catch it in the Visy space, do. When there are magical, beautiful, inspiring and life-changing tales such as this to be told, there had better be a bloody good reason to endure anything less intelligent, or less lovely in life.

 

Advertisements
29
Nov
13

CROSS-STITCH and the end of an era at Metro Arts

cross-stitch

Metro Arts presents CROSS-STITCH:

Thunderbox Led by Artistic Director, Britt Guy

Friday December 6 and Saturday December 7 2013 from 6pm at Metro Arts

 

Closing the year at Metro Arts is CROSS-STITCH: Thunderbox, Brisbane’s unrivalled immersive two-night art party curated by Britt Guy. Site-specific, interactive and live, Britt has curated a collection of contemporary Australian artists sharing their latest partners in crime – communities and you the audience.

 

Artists include Zane Trow, Robert Millett, Lenine Bourke, Mck Mckeague, Matthew Day, Andrew Tuttle, Edwina Lunn, Gerwyn Davies, Nathan Stoneham and Thomas Quirk. Each work is a conversation between an experimental artist, an Australian community and Brisbane audiences. Expect to witness work fleetingly, engage in conversations, and contemplate your connection with place, community and art making as you traverse through these interstitial performance and installation works.

 

Starting at the bar, audiences pick from the program of works, self-curating a journey through the online gaming world, intimate duets, hidden spaces, mouse size galleries, the sounds of nameless towns, suburbs and cities while traversed across the country through an ode to landscape and corrugated iron.

 

“I believe that contemporary artists are seeking a stronger connection and engagement with audience and the place where they are creating and presenting their work. Simultaneously, I believe audiences today are just as hungry for a richer understanding of contemporary art making,” explains Britt.

 

“With CROSS-STITCH: Thunderbox, I hope to encourage discussion around the relationship between art, engagement and audience interactive practices.”

 

An independent producer, curator and community arts and youth worker with extensive experience across festivals such as Brisbane Festival’s Under the Radar and This Is Not Art’s Critical Animals, as well as sitting on various selection committees in organisations in Darwin, Queensland and Melbourne, Britt has in depth knowledge and is engaged with emerging artist development, experimental art practice, site specific and pop up work, youth run events, community cultural development, events planning, strategy writing and research.

 

Leveraging on Metro Arts’ traditional and non-traditional spaces, and resources to realise the event, CROSS- STITCH is a platform for an emerging artistic director to test and strengthen curatorial skills.

 

eve_metroarts kiss_motherland prehistoric_band

The End of an Era of Independents at Metro Arts

 

PREHISTORIC BRINGS THE CURTAINS DOWN ON THE SEASON OF THE INDEPENDENTS.

 

 

See Marcel Dorney’s vital play before December 7

 

Award-winning playwright and director Marcel Dorney and his fellow co-founders of Melbourne theatre company Elbow Room conclude Metro Arts’ 2013 Season of the Independents with Prehistoric.

 

It is fitting that Marcel Dorney, with three works under his belt in The Independents, should also be the final work to be co-presented under this banner. The Independents has been an important platform for presenting Brisbane’s independent performance makers for 12 years, in that time presenting more than 50 works, commencing with Three Points of Contact by Shaun Charles.

 

Prehistoric was generated entirely within the walls of Metro Arts,” says Dorney, “first through a commission from the recently defunded Backbone Youth Arts, and then as part of the Season of Independents. I got my start as a director through Metro Arts at 19; I’m immensely proud to have come back here to work every five years or so, and watched the organisation change. To be part of the ‘last’ of the Independents is also – I hope – to help push open a new door.”

 

In 2014 Metro Arts will continue to co-present the performance work of practitioners making and presenting performance works under their own creative control. We will respond to what is needed at this time – a flexible platform appropriate for a new context and new challenges.

 

The Independents started as a vehicle for playwrights to test their writing in production and enable them to continue to develop their craft. The list of writers it has supported reads as a who’s who of Queensland playwrights including Linda Hassall, Maxine Mellor, Sven Swenson, Robert Kronk, Simon Brook, Daynan Brazil, Daniel Evans, Elaine Acworth, Sasha Janowicz, Margi Brown Ash and Katherine Lyall Watson.

 

Sue Benner who founded The Independents says, “I was surrounded by a sea of potential theatre talent and a staff and Board that were ferocious in their commitment to the place and willing to taking the risk necessary to support these artists’ careers. And so The Season of Independents was born with borrowed and invented stuff, seats held together with gaffer tape, minimal lighting (to be polite), front-of-house non-existent but for a bevy of volunteers, and Workplace Health and Safety? I won’t even go there… Three Points of Contact had exactly the fresh, controversial, edginess that the year 2002 needed, and exactly the mad energy required to launch a season of new independent work.”

 

Over its 12 years The Independents has continuously evolved and expanded in response to performance makers’ needs. The platform has morphed to service and showcase directors and actors; developing the skills of designers, stage managers and producers. It’s changed in response to theatre form, embracing contemporary performance, music, dance and all the combinations and spaces between. It has broken out of the Sue Benner Theatre at the call of artists making more experimental work, wanting to challenge spatial and audience relationships. Who can forget the transformation of the Basement by Motherboard Productions in 2011 for 지하Underground, a work that continues to develop and will return for its third Brisbane season in 2014.

Exposing artists and work to a national audience and enabling work to transition to other stages has been a focus in later years.

In 2010 The Kursk travelled from the Sue Benner Theatre to 37 venues around Australia and we are now in preparation to showcase the escapists’ work Boy Girl Wall in the US – a little work made for the Sue Benner Theatre with not much more than a piece of chalk an overhead projector.

 

Liz Burcham, CEO of Metro Arts says, “We stand at a point where we don’t need a label or a sign post that says this is independent. Metro Arts stands by daring and exciting theatre and performance, in all its many forms and in 2014 will present under its own name, Metro Arts, a program of work in collaboration with artists that breaks form and style, blends performance and installation, engages cross culturally and in some cases are co-presented with our peers nationally.”

 

07
Dec
10

The New Dead: Medea Material

I saw 3 shows on the weekend so I’ll tell you a bit about each one, over two posts. If I tell you a lot about any one of them, I will come across as being completely impossible to please. Wait. Too late?!

The truth is I am more easily pleased than you would think.

If a production delivers all it has promised to deliver, I’m a happy camper (and by “promised” I mean promised by the media too, inclusive of press releases and the early/out-of-town reviews. And by “camper” I mean theatre-goer, except when, once annually, I actually mean “camper”; the Woodford Folk Festival variety). If not, that is if it doesn’t deliver, I have to wonder why not.

For example, the show I saw on Friday night at La Boite – the last show of their Indie season this year – failed to deliver, despite being touted as one of the must see shows of 2010. In Brisbane, at least. And it should be noted that The New Dead: Medea Material came to Brisbane after seasons at NIDA (2009) and the Adelaide Fringe Festival (2010).

Kat Henry, Director and Artistic Director of Stella Electrika, has an impressive body of work behind her and a whole host of exciting projects ahead of her. I had (very) high expectations of her show.

Heiner Muller‘s text is extraordinary. I wanted to hear it more clearly and react to it more extremely. I wanted to be shocked and horrified and, well…SHOCKED. But there was all this stuff that got in the way of me feeling anything much besides a kind of fascination in the result of the creative process.

We know the story. The story is shocking. It was entirely appropriate to tell the story through a combination of electro-rock-pop-or-something, theatre and dance. It felt like there were many tricks tried and many attempts made to shock –  in fact, just about every device known to theatrical mankind was used, though rarely to great effect. The anime porn, for example, flickering across the screen, was a distraction and what’s more, it was completely superfluous. Guy Webster and Kimie Tsukakoshi had already demonstrated their ability to morph into dancers and I was baffled as to why, as opposed to sitting still and posing, locking eyes only, while the anime figures onscreen made a mockery of their passionate gaze, they did not use their bodies in some Matrix-cum-Karma Sutra inspired porn piece! Was that just me?

For Lucinda Shaw, despite her apparent energy, the show seemed to start half way through it, with the commencement of her stand-up routine. Even then, she took a moment to settle into the accent and never seemed to quite settle into the routine. It was a clever device that didn’t quite work because she appeared to be uncomfortable in it. In fact, she appeared to me, to be uncomfortable from the beginning of the show, with her anxious, frustrated scratching and scoffing of corn chips. In class, I refer to this style as “anxious, frustrated acting” (Julia Roberts’ name often comes up at this point) and I challenge actors to find a more organic, interesting state of being. Interestingly, this role was played originally by Emma Dean.

I loved that Kimmie’s role required her to skate (though, for what purpose, across the space to start? To show us that she could skate?) and dance around a pole a bit BUT – and it’s the same point – why include it if it can’t be convincingly used? USE the pole! The routine was lackluster, underestimating (I’m betting) Kimmie’s ability. Regardless, if Jason were the man I thought him to be (no, not Bernie from Powderfinger, though you would be forgiven for thinking so), he would have left the drum kit for dust and fucked her right then and there on the floor. I’m sorry but there it is. Or was…not. SHOCK VALUE.

The device that really worked for me was the video footage (captured by Alex Duffy) during the final moments of the show, it’s an oldie but a goodie; it made the final horror all the more horrifying. Truly chilling, as it ought to be. Now, THAT is the kind of challenging theatre I had been expecting to see – and feel – all night.  That reminds me…watching Guy watching the screen at this point and earlier, watching him watching Kimmie across the space, we saw his best work; he was focused, connected and he was real and vulnerable.

In short, I didn’t feel that the characters were completely developed, nor that they had any real or lasting connection with each other. Having said that, all three actors are clearly multi-talented and did well to wade through all of the excess, all of the tricks…I’ve even thought of Barnum since.

The clever ideas in this production were like red weed, growing and spreading uncontrollably over everything that was good underneath. I wanted to see more of the good, organic stuff. I wanted to see a selection of the devices used to enhance the text, rather than distract from it.

22
Oct
10

[title of show] Part 2: The Director’s Comments

The lovely Ms Gilhome has been kind enough to allow me to share her comments with you, in response to my post about the show.

I love her no competition in the arts notion – I think she has almost convinced me about this – and I also think she has summed up the possibilities for the future state of Brisbane theatre more succinctly than any other comments I have read thus far. Right now, there is an interesting thread appearing on her Facebook wall, which I will not copy and paste at this point without permission from each contributor; suffice to say, there are equal parts excitement and concern over the latest developments too, in The Arts curriculum draft, which you too can read and provide feedback about online. Do provide feedback to ACARA rather than complain loudly about the lack of The Arts within our education system!

Here are Emily’s comments re previous post.

Hi Xanthe,

Thanks for your post – it was a good read and I appreciate the supportive comments!

I also, was – anxious is the wrong word – AWARE that non-theatre loving types may struggle with the numerous obscure and not so obscure theatre references peppered throughout the show, so I was happy to see you raise the question. Interestingly, the e-mails and comments through our website have, for the most part, have actually been from people saying that they never go to theatre and how this show has inspired them to see more local theatre. I’m not quite sure what it is about the [title of show] experience, but we have had a lot of friends of friends, or workmates, or boyfriends and husbands who are saying that they would never be caught dead at Mamma Mia – but on the strength of [tos] would consider seeing musical theatre again.

Some patrons came twice, three times to the show (but I would hazard a guess that THEY would be the hardcore theatre-going types).

More than anything, and even despite the fact that – as you said – the show wasn’t FULL, I have been so encouraged by the fact that there ARE people going to theatre for the first time, that there ARE people exploring a different genre, and that they WILL return. Not necessarily even to our show, but they are more likely to take a risk on another indie show.

You mentioned competition, which I found interesting also. I, for a long time, have been an advocate for the fact that I believe the arts to be one of those industries where the traditional concept of ‘competition’ doesn’t exist. Yes, I agree that there are battles for subscribers – and they could be seen as ‘customers’ as in any other commercial activity, but I still believe that a theatre company’s audience can’t be pigeon holed into a normal ‘consumer’ model.

If my show does well, it doesn’t mean yours won’t. If my show sucks – it might actually make people LESS likely to see your show in the future, because they have been stung by taking a chance. I believe that, collectively, we all have a responsibility to our audience (as a whole), because I don’t own Oscar patrons no more than La Boite owns theirs. In fact, I believe that there is a positive correlation between me doing well and any other indie company doing well (as opposed to a traditional inverse relationship in a traditional notion of ‘competitive’ relationship). That is, like I said before, if my show does well – then it’s more likely that yours will as well; and vice versa.

In other industries – this isn’t the case. McDonalds doesn’t bring out the Grand Angus so that Hungry Jacks will sell more Whoppers. It doesn’t work that way.

The arts is different. As an INDUSTRY, we compete against other INDUSTRIES (i.e: movies, television) for our collective audience. I don’t believe individual companies need to compete against each other in this way. Every project is individual, and just because someone comes to see [title of show] and decides that they are an Oscar supporter (BLESS THEM) doesn’t mean they won’t go and see the next 23rd Productions show because it’s produced by a different company.

AND NOR SHOULD THEY! I support and ENCOURAGE people to partake in the arts – I don’t care if you’re not coming to see Oscar’s show. If what we’re doing doesn’t float your boat then find something that does. Because if you support others, then there will come a time when we DON’T have to be Sherlock Holmes to find what’s on – there will come a time when the arts WILL be considered the primary entertainment option for people in this city.

That’s when the funding will follow.

Let’s stop banging our head against brick walls and moaning about the state of the arts.

Put the DVD back on the shelf and get out of the house and into this great new social scene.

I feel priveleged to be a part of it – and I hope that those who were encouraged by [tos] to see more theatre actually do. That’s what this show was all about for me.

Emily Gilhome

Oscar Theatre Company

22
Oct
10

[title of show]

[title of show]

Oscar Theatre Company

Brisbane Powerhouse Visy Theatre

October 6 – 16 2010

Reviewed by Xanthe Coward

titleofshow2010

The tag line reads:

This show fucking rocks!

 

And it does. Well, did. Too bad if you missed Oscar Theatre Co‘s recent production, downstairs at the Visy Theatre in Brisbane’s Powerhouse. I saw it on closing night and was surprised (and dismayed, Brisbane, DISMAYED) to see approximately 30 seats spare.

[title of show] is no ordinary show. I remember being intrigued and bemused by the very first YouTube appearance of Hunter and Jeff, in their pilot episode of what appeared to be a fun stunt, claiming to be putting their show on Broadway, despite the fact that it had not yet been conceived. I thought, “Brilliant! Good luck to them…maybe we should try that?!” (I WANT A GOLDEN PONY) and promptly forgot all about them.

The rest, as they say, is a phenomenon. The appeal of the show is that, while it stayed pretty true to form and content, it got a whole lot funnier than the YouTube posts. However, for non theatre-goers; maybe not so much. I do wonder how you would consistently get a normal crowd to see this show. Even I had to refer to the [tos]sery in the back of the Playbill to find out who Mary Stout is (and then I realised I’d seen her play random characters in legal dramas for years). The rest I got. I know other theatre freak friends who particularly appreciated the cell phone ring tones. There were many homages to some of the most popular Broadway musicals of our time that had me laughing out loud in between the witty one liners. Interestingly, the guy sitting next to me didn’t appear to react to anything at all. I wanted to say to him, “Hey, buddy, turn that frown upside down!” (because this show makes you want to say such things to sad people) and then I wanted to poke him (obviously, not in a virtual, Facebook kinda’ way – he’s clearly not on my friends’ list with a sense of humour like THAT –  but in a physical, actual way, you know; to see if he was alive). Anyway, he coughed in the middle of the opening song so I knew he was alive, though not quite normal. Seriously! It’s a funny, clever song and sets the premise for the entire show about two guys writing a show about two guys writing a show about two guys writing a show!

The rest of the audience was with me, loving every moment; applauding, shouting, whistling and screaming after every (upbeat) number and jumping to their feet at its conclusion in the most enthusiastic and genuine standing ovation I’ve been part of for a very long time.

And rightly so. The collective talent involved in this production is impressive. On stage, Dash Kruck totes stole the show for me, portraying Hunter Bell, with his endearingly cheeky, naughty approach to, well, everything in life, his Broadway moves and his ability to connect with those on stage and off. I’m confident I can recommend you go see anything at all that Dash appears in. This includes his kitchen when he is washing the dishes and IGA when he is doing the grocery shopping. Dash is bound to make any event just as entertaining. His wing-man, Kynan Francis provided some sort of balance, though he also managed to get away with equally zany behaviour, which became the norm for everyone, actually, very quickly. Watch the original pair in lieu of the totes over the top version, busting with parody-energy of THIS number. For the record, I preferred the totes OTT Oscar version. It fucking rocked.

I loved David Law as Larry (and able MD), although I wonder if it would be equally as effective to have the character engage a little more in the action…on the other hand, it might change the entire course of the show!

The girls started out as…supportive. And, thank Emily, fleshed out their roles a little more as they went along. I couldn’t help but feel as though the show still lacked a really strong female opportunity…unless it’s there in the book and it wasn’t quite grasped. This seems ridiculous to say because both girls certainly held their own, especially in their scene together towards the end of the show, featuring the song, What Kind of Girl is She, which was added for the Broadway run. One of Brisbane’s most adored performing artists, Liz Buchanan, in her animated (read zany and different animated to this one) rendition of Die Vampire Die might almost have given Susan Blackwell a run for her money. Don’t tell Susan I said that. Heidi (that’s Heidi Blickenstaff for those unacquainted with either the original show or the über-talented lady herself) was played appropriately, in turns, friendly-gently and fiercely-confidently, by Bernadette Alizart. However, I couldn’t help but feel that the two songs included to showcase Heidi’s/Bernadette’s voice were, at the same time, performed beautifully by Bernadette AND could have been two stronger moments in the show. Picky, aren’t I?

LISTEN CLOSELY.

Emily Gilhome’s directorial debut is an impressive effort, particularly in terms of the production values, which were basic and beautifully achieved by a tight team (SM Tim Wallace, Lighting Designer Extraordinaire Jason Glenwright, Sound Designer Lachlan Wallace and Designer Michelle Zahner) and the way the cast members connected with each other and with their audience, even – or especially – in the most ridiculous, zaniest moments, to keep it real. Of course, as I alluded to earlier, some of us may relate better than others to the concept and content of [title of show], which is set to enjoy a cult following everywhere.

Oscar Theatre Company has started out very quietly, with quietly confident visions of what sort of company they want to become and while they are still finding their feet over the next few years, I think they’ll find that Brisbane audiences are loyal to their quirky quality, rather than the ordinary quantity of some of the competition. Did I say competition? I certainly did! There is this gentle local urban myth at the moment (is it new? Probably not) that there is not enough good theatre happening in Queensland and, more specifically, in Brisbane. I say there is. I wouldn’t go so far, however, as to say that Brisbane is the new cultural capital of Australia. There are those who have done. To them I say, “THANK YOU.” And, “COME AGAIN.”

It’s true, you do have to be a bit of a Sherlock at times, to find out what’s on, though not if you’re a Facebook addict like me. And by addict, I don’t mean simply logging on every day for a fix, I mean finding the pages for the main stage and independent companies, liking them and hoping they are all tweeting and updating their moves like mad to continuously feed your addiction (oh, a marketing and social media blog post must be coming up)! Then of course, one must choose to go see their shows and book the tix and GO (oh, a supporting friends’ productions blog post must be coming up)!

From my vantage point on the gorgeous Sunshine Coast, I’ll certainly be keeping an eye out for whatever it is that our friends at Oscar Theatre Co offer us next.

[title of show] Promo Video : Oscar Theatre Company from Oscar TheatreCo on Vimeo.

Oscar Theatre Co [title of show]

12
Oct
10

Red Sky Morning

Red Sky Morning got me. It really got me. It really got me thinking. About all sorts of things. Bear with me…

THING 1

How close to self-destruction are any of us? Are we not all ever-so-slowly imploding silently over something? No? Not at all? Perfectly, delightfully happy in every way every day? Really? Okay. Maybe it’s just me.

But have you never thought (or not quite thought) while you’ve been driving, about letting the car gradually drift into the other lane entirely? Or off the road entirely and into the scrub and the trunks of the eucalypts? Off a cliffside and into a canyon? You’ve never had a Thelma and Louise moment? Not ever? Just me? No prescriptions filled twice over and no one at home to cook for? No walk-into-the-sea fantasy? No wish for a loaded gun? Just me. Okay. Well, clearly not I’m afraid, because this is something that Red Sky Morning dares to address. Or at least dares to dare you to consider.

Stop. I don’t want you to flood my inbox with ARE YOU OKAY messages because I’M OKAY.

The point of difference of course, between seeing these events in our mind’s eye and taking action to bring about these events must be somewhere vaguely in a place where we remember we are loved and we have an awful lot to live for. Or, if one can’t remember such a poignant thing at that point, perhaps it’s the fear of enduring any sort of real physical pain that stops us. Or the knowledge that those left behind will suffer unbearable anguish, unable to ever understand what it was we forgot there was/is to live for. I’m not sure. I’ve never stepped (or steered) quite that close to the edge. In any case, how do we stop time at that point, in order to reconsider and take that step away from the other place, the place of tragic – not always quite conscious – decisions about finally, one dark day or night, acting out our fantasies of self-harm or suicide? I can’t actually answer that. It’s heavy stuff.

Red Sky Morning is really heavy stuff. Tom Holloway has written nothing and everything about my life. And quite possibly about yours too. His ability as a writer is obvious and something that, during the afternoon’s discussion with the cast and the director, they kept coming back to. I could feel that they were, rightly so, in complete awe of Tom’s lyric. I’m fascinated that from a piece written originally in Word columns, for three characters to speak a monologue each, together in cacophony for the duration, a brilliant composition was structured and workshopped and re-structured and rehearsed and re-structured, to become distinct movements, delivered to stunning emotional effect. Sam Strong is a BIG fan of Anne Bogart’s work. So yes, you got those references there. I knew you would.

In turns, David (company AD), Sarah (company casting), Erin (company admin) and Sam Strong (director), explained the process by which this show came about. It became clear that it has been the collaboration, between writer, director, designer, actors and audiences, over a three-year process, that has made this piece so real and raw and really funny and completely devastating all at the same time. The cast, without exception, were simply outstanding in their vocal work particularly (um, rote learning lines my arse, guys; maybe to begin with, as one might learn poetry in the primary school but then there is talent and intuition and intellect at work!) and in their uncanny ability to match each other’s continuously changing energies, making physical and emotional connections (and complete detachments, sometimes almost within the same instant) without actually connecting with each other through touch, proximity or any eye contact. Ever. Seriously. I’ve only seen that level of intense commitment – I’m talking about that level of extreme character too – in the snippets of Alice Ripley in Next to Normal on Broadway, on YouTube. In actual fact, there are a few parallels there, between mother and mother, which would be apparent if you are a theatrical geek-freak, as I am, and you have perhaps watched said clips of Alice Ripley in Next to Normal on Broadway, on YouTube, something like, ooh, six million times.

I MAY HAVE EVEN POSTED IT ALREADY. HERE IT IS AGAIN BECAUSE IT IS SO GOOD.

BUT WAIT. THERE’S MORE. NEXT TO NORMAL IS COMING TO A THEATRE NEAR YOU. That is, if you’re anywhere near MTC and the precinct next year.

THING 2

Red Stitch is my new favourite company in this country. In fact, I will attribute them with validating the way that Sam and I approach our work and with inspiring us to continue down this path, gather the right people around us gradually and produce great theatre in our own time, via our own non-methods, attracting and building our own audiences along the way. It is highly unlikely that anybody will really care about that now, at this point. I’m just saying. For future reference. For, you know, editorial, for when they’re searching desperately at deadline, for quotes and links to include in a feature story about the theatre-makers from Queensland. I’M JUST PUTTING IT OUT THERE. FOR THE UNIVERSE, YOU KNOW?

THING 3

See, now we’ve progressed beyond the Seuss Things.

The touring set is pretty much the original set. It cost the company $1000.

The reddish earth for the floor is sourced locally, wherever they go, immediately giving a great sense of place and somehow – not entirely sure what I mean – a sense of trust or normality (or something) and authenticity (or something) to this production, just by it being there, underfoot. I think it was the reality underneath, if you cared to look through the thick, murky layer of fantasy and smog (hello, Mt Isa memories) that served to ground us again, bringing us back to that safe, child-like place of trust and normality, just as the father craved, grasping handfuls of earth as he lay there upon it, just considering his place in this lonely place and just as the daughter craved, reacting violently to everything happening outside of her control by forcing a fight, in the dirt in the school yard, with her best friend, finally losing all self-control and regaining at least some sort of self-respect in the defense of her mother against the public taunts and accusations, which she had previously ignored.

Then again, the director and the designer may have had a conversation that went something (or nothing) like this:

DISCLAIMER: I did not hear Sam Strong say, “mate” in all the time we were there. It’s late. I’m tired. If it were a show about putting on a show (currently enjoying a Brisbane season), this is how it would play out.

 

 

Timber. Timber floor boards, mate.

No. Too warm, too friendly, too comforting. How about dirt?

Dirt. Soil. The real, red earth. The dust of life

No mate, that’s Bui Doi you’re thinking of; they’re doing Miss Saigon in Brisbane while we’re there, aren’t they? That’s a brave choice.

Yeah, yeah. Brave choice…

Dirt, mate; let’s get the local dirt and spread it across the floor. It’ll be even more comforting than boards.

Yeah, yeah, no boards; local dirt’s good. But you know it’s been done, mate.

No, not for ages, mate; not since Capricornia and that was only seen by the Brisbane peeps. Do the local dirt, mate.

Alright, mate, that’ll be brilliant. And local. Dirt.

 

 

ASIDE: When I notice that in the back of the cute little STC season brochure for 2011, in their clever little SUPPORT US YOU LOVE US YOU LOVE OUR LAVISHNESS (and p.s. don’t forget our efforts to recycle and greenify the company) the donations they received this year covered costume and set costs upwards of $20 000 for multiple productions, I realise what sort of company I would like to work…like. I would say work for, only you would not say no to an STC gig if it were to come up, would you?! Well I certainly wouldn’t. But by the same token, there is something to be said for the humble independents, draining minimal funding and producing exceptional theatrical work for their country, regardless. Hats off, I say.

So within the strict confines of an ingeniously designed venetian-blind-box, a little family, in a typical almost-outback small town struggles to simply be together. On the surface, it’s a play about survival. Under the surface, it’s about questioning the desire to keep trying…fighting to survive. Who can be bothered? And what (or whom) for?

A husband and father convinces himself that he is, in fact, “bloody lucky” and heads off to work each morning before his wife and daughter are even up and moving. They are both, however; wide awake and considering the day before them. The play is, to begin with, surprisingly…upbeat. The daughter, off to high school and, with a crush on her teacher, chatty and looking forward to getting out of the house and being amongst friends. The mother, off to the kitchen to…oh! just grab a beer before breakfast, after seeing an elephant in the hall before getting out of the house and going for a jog. And so it goes…but not like anything I’ve seen or heard before. And I was ready for it! Having spent the same afternoon on the fourth floor of the Judith Wright Centre with the generous cast, stage manager and director, discussing every aspect of the show, it came as an enormous shock on so many levels – and a total sensory overload – to actually hear two or all three of the actors speaking at once!

THING 4

In a dysfunctional family (and, let’s face it, that could be any family, really, depending on just how closely you look at it) how agonising is it to choose to go on with each day rather than to end the pain, frustration, confusion, miscommunication and missed opportunities – for everyone – in a life that hasn’t turned out quite the way you thought it would? (Did I mention boredom, resentment, regret, regression, manic depression and delusions of grandeur? Yep. That’s right. Remember, I’ve lived out west too). Well, we certainly saw the agony. We felt it. I felt it so that I couldn’t breathe. And because I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t sob, which is really what I felt like doing, as if I were in front of that heart-wrenching film, KOLYA, once again with my four-year old daughter asking, through her own desperate tears, “Mama, why won’t the mama take her boy?” (and her absolutely bewildered tears at the end of it, “Mama, how can the mama take her boy back now?!” Her capacity for sympathy and her depth of understanding confounds me).

Anyway, the last theatrical work to really get me like that was Steppenwolf’s production of Stockholm. At the end of it, I was a complete mess. And as an artist, I thought, “WOW…we can do that!” At the end of Red Sky Morning, I fell apart and, as an artist, thought, “WOW. HOW THE FUCK DO WE DO THAT?!”

The academic in me wants to sit in on everything this company does and just observe and absorb…and ask lots of questions about process and write it up for my thesis. The actor in me wants to do their very next production, whatever it may be, and work collaboratively to be a part of something amazing. And the director and teacher in me wants to work with new talent and use my non-methods, which of course pay homage to Bogart, Chubbuck, et al, to continue to introduce actors on the Sunshine Coast to this little world that we are trying to build here. What is, I realise, a microcosm of Melbourne’s Red Stitch community. That is, if I may be so bold as to claim any similarity to their ensemble philosophy and innovative approach whatsoever!

Brick by brick, somebody recently told me, though I think he referred specifically to building the Brisbane theatre scene at the time. Brick by brick. It applies wherever we are. So. I tell you what. We’ll give it another year here. One more year of bricks. Okay? Then…well, who knows? Brick by brick and day by day, I say!

25
Sep
10

Erotique: The Fringe of the Fringe

Finally! Home on the beautiful Sunshine Coast, where the air and the water and the streets are clean, for almost a week and I can tell you this…

Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the goblin city…

Petersham Town Hall. The fringe of The Sydney Fringe Festival. If you were one of the few who found us out there, on the edge, thanks so much for coming; we hope you enjoyed the show.

We figure we’ve earned our stripes now. We were the out-of-towners this year, the interstate visitors, the Sunshine Coast emerging artists; we didn’t know anybody, our support network was small and we had very little local knowledge. We thought, “How excitement! This is what a fringe festival is all about!” We expected to meet a heap of other artists, see their shows, hang out in a chai-type-tent somewhere and talk theatre into the wee small hours.

Well, we met a heap of other artists on the first night of our stay. We met Kris Stewart, Artistic Director of the festival and Meryl Rogers, General Manager of the festival and we also met some of the top peeps in the industry at Mr Anthony Costanzo’s one-night-only show at Notes: Words and music from Life’s a Circus and More. Featuring Lucy Durack, Patrice Tipoki, Chris Parker, Rob Mills, Amelia Cormack, Maria Mercedes and Cameron McDonald, this first show – for better or for worse – served to reinforce my high expectations of what was to come and remained one of the festival highlights for me.

The other was Bare, a newish musical take on the classic tale of star-crossed lovers; in this case, two boys who fall in love at a Catholic High School. Friends there assumed it had been written and developed especially for the festival but I knew this was not so. In fact, I remembered reading that Bare was hailed as “better musically and dramatically than Rent” by Los Angeles Daily News in 2001. That’s a big call. And this production, seen by just 4 full houses at the Newtown Theatre, proved it.

Performed by a cast of senior students and new graduates, Bare was the show that blew me away. The collective talent was phenomenal and the entire production was pared down in order to simply share the heart wrenching story. There was never any question about what was happening where. These kids worked much harder than some of the professional ensembles I’ve seen. This includes the talented young MD and his band. Their energy, their focus and their intent, in most cases, meant passionate and perfectly authentic performances. As performer and performance coach, I was completely inspired and maybe even a little bit envious that these kids have had the opportunity to do a show that, clearly, I am too old to ever be cast in! I know that Ben felt the same way, hearing some of the songs sung in turns, so tenderly and powerfully by Seann Moore and Zac Smith. N.B. Not strictly true (I’ve still got time!) but look, Jenni Little, who played the unfortunate young Ivy, definitely had the show stopper, as her character struggled to come to terms with her roller coaster ride. The other stand out had to be Elyse Atkins, who played the hilariously self-deprecating sister of Jason, Nadia (or, as she self-proclaims throughout one song; “Plain Jane Fat Arse”). Each character’s journey was massive and I cannot stress enough, how professionally these kids delivered a really challenging – on so many levels – show. I hope to see them achieve their goals for this production next year and if possible, I would love to see it again.

Sam and I saw Wicked while we were in town (it closes in Sydney on Sunday). Of course, the production values were spectacular and I loved it because I love the show but I couldn’t help but wonder (and I often wonder about this so bear with me)…why did I feel that there was something missing? If anybody can enlighten me, please feel free to add your comments. I know not everybody loves Wicked but I actually, really LOVE Wicked! Having said that, the book is a little lacking in substance, assuming that we all know what happens next and that we are familiar with the characters. But when we are given a different take on those characters, I would like to see more of the layers, more of the complexities and, especially in Act 1, much more of who Elphie is; I mean, who she is outside of the stereotypical Green Kid who doesn’t fit in. In a spectacular, touring, professional production, just how does one DO that? Is there even room in the rehearsal schedule to work on individual characters to the extent that we will feel empathy for Elphie due to her own actions, reactions and emotions, rather than the simple sympathy that is derived from how she is treated by others? Is it just me? Am I a heartless, shallow soul? Alright, don’t answer that. I probably haven’t explained very well but I’m sure the same point will come up again.

Despite my musings, I came away from The Capitol Theatre (sans green glasses, glitter globe, shirt and cap) impressed with the performances. In fact, I think I am Lucy Durack‘s newest biggest fan. Her interpretation of Glinda was original, not to mention gorgeous and I’m going to say it (I don’t say it often), absolutely flawless. She and Patrice Tipoki, who (we are proud to remind everybody) hails from the Sunshine Coast, were wonderful together. I’m now even more excited about taking Poppy, four, to a matinee in Brisbane in January.

Meanwhile, back at our humble little venue in Crystal Street, Petersham, we had the usual technical hitches before our first show on Wednesday and, as usual, everything was alright on the night! We celebrated at Max Brenner‘s on King St, Newtown (I will write that once but in fact, the same could be said of at least three more “celebrations”! Copious amounts of chocolate was consumed by the cast. What a deliciously decadent discovery)!

Word of mouth, even without a sizable support network, worked and we enjoyed greater numbers at each subsequent performance. On a couple of occasions, we also enjoyed the pizzas from the boys next door, who thought it was about time somebody rocked up to give the topless pub waitresses up the road a bit of competition! That made Sam so proud.

Closing night saw us with an audience that was well over capacity and nothing but praise for the production. And lots of friends and randoms asking, “So how do you prepare to get naked?!” I’m going to put that to the cast and get back to you because I know just my version can get a bit tedious sometimes.

We got to 3 shows at Carriageworks and 1 other at The Italian Forum. At Carriageworks (surely the most under-utilised venue of the festival), A Tiny Chorus, Clammy Glamour and a secret show, upstairs between those two shows: The Nick Cave Murder Ballads. A Tiny Chorus moved me to tears and then later, in retrospect, I decided I would love to work with those girls to get something different from them! Not better, different. It was a superb show and it would be fascinating to see what else can be done with it, especially after winning some of the awards at the other festivals.

Clammy Glamour was tricky and untidy. Others loved it and their closing night sold out. Murder Ballads was mostly disturbing and a little bit amusing. Others would certainly reverse that statement to reflect their enjoyment of the shocking puppetry, like Coraline meets The Corpse Bride meets Team America (FUCK YEAH)!

Pistol Whipped, a dance piece, which was on late one night at the Italian Forum, was not at all what it promised to be. It was a great lesson in marketing.

That is what a fringe festival is all about!

We are still having fantastic conversations about everything we saw- conversations that started over coffee and dessert in various groovy cafes late at night and continued after rising late each morning, over the best breakfasts to be found in Newtown, at El Bahsa/El Basha on King St. The boys there made us feel completely at home and never once looked as if they were even close to throwing us out. No, not once! Clearly we were spending far too much on coffee and chai! I think it’s important to note too, that we helped support several other local establishments, including the cash-only (curses!) Pastizzi Cafe and the tiny Blackstar bakery, which had a selection of pastries and gorgeous sweet treats, including incredible edible-even-after-you’re-quite-full danishes and the most delicate pistachio macaroons. The only place that comes close to Blackstar on the Sunshine Coast is my latest discovery, thanks to the French friends of French friends, Maison de Provence in Cooroy. Now I find out that our composer, Ms Leah Barclay, has known about it all along!!!

We visited STC and pretended we were taking a break from rehearsals to grab a coffee over the water, as you do, feeling totes inspired by the famous names, the stunning photography and the current season’s imagery lining that corridor. As I tweeted, how good would it be to go to work here every day?! I know. There is no tone in tweets. Only some of you who really know me, really got that level of emotion. I know.

For a bit of R & R, we spent a full day in lovely Manly, which we thought felt a bit like Noosa in the old days – no, really – and enjoyed Spanish tapas or steaks, depending on the mood. I was extremely tempted, during both ferry crossings, to belt out a bit of THIS

…but thought better of it. It will make much more sense on the way to New York, obviously.

Um. So Ben was feeling left out of the nudity clause, obviously…

We managed to balance the week quite nicely, between our show, others’ shows and the fun and games. This was possible because we have, as I’ve mentioned before, such a fantastic team. It’s been sad to come home and fully realise that there will never again be a performance of Erotique. Not like this, not with these performers. If you missed it, you really missed it! We didn’t even film it. Not sure why. We’ll definitely regret that, having collected such great footage previously, to give La Ronde some immortality. And that’s the next focus: the DVD, which will give La Ronde a life beyond the sold-out Sunshine Coast seasons. Well, that and the creation of 2 more shows this year as well as 2 shows and a fundraising mega-event next year. A holiday in Greece is also on the list. Or at least one in Sydney.




Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Follow on Bloglovin

Follow us on Twitter