Posts Tagged ‘sandro colarelli

14
Jun
18

The Sound of a Finished Kiss

 

The Sound of a Finished Kiss

Brisbane Powerhouse, Electric Moon & now look here

Brisbane Powerhouse Visy Theatre

June 13 – 16 2018

 

Reviewed by Xanthe Coward

 

 

When an old mixed tape is unearthed, four friends rewind to Brisbane in the 1990s. Through a series of monologues interwoven with the songs they loved, they relive the events which shattered friendships and scattered friends to the four corners of the world.

 

There is undoubtedly more lively material than any of the music ever released by The Go-Betweens and if you’re not a fan, this might not seem like the show for you, but wait, there’s more to it than that. And when you make art, is it not right that you should make it the way you want to, using the soundtrack you want to, without having to tick funding application boxes, or satisfying sponsors or producers who are under the misguided impression that their dollars equate to creative talent or artistic decisions better left to the artists? Right. Here we have Kate Wild’s show, not yours, and not mine, and it’s clear from the outset that it’s a labour of love.

 

 

I love the story, which is penned by Wild with nostalgia and style, complete with colloquialisms and local references, which might not have the same impact anywhere else in the world, but here where everyone can picture very clearly, as we did during Zig Zag Street, the share houses and cracked coffee cups and odd, stoned characters at late night share house parties, the in-jokes and the bin references are appreciated. There’s a poetry and honesty to this work that leads us gently from four corners of the globe to our own back yard, begging us to recall the details of a decade. Nothing from your life? No one you know? Look closer. No hammer here with which to shape society, not really, but a mirror held respectfully within our reach while we gaze and wonder and remember, if we’re willing, crazy, hazy days and nights.

 

 

I adore these performers – Lucinda Shaw, Lucas Stibbard, Kat Henry and Sandro Colarelli – in their element as actors who can sing and move proficiently, and certainly in the case of both Shaw and Colarelli, as singers in their own right. This is clever casting, giving Stibbard another recognisable, relatable, beautifully underplayed super sensitive sad guy (you know, he can play happy people too!), and having Henry fill the shoes of a sweater-wearing, box-ticking, wide-eyed and impressionable Toowoomba girl on a fierce/lonely/dissatisfied life journey, Shaw delightedly swivelling and swaying and dancing her way into all our hearts, despite the distinct feeling at first that she doesn’t fit in here, and Colarelli – what a master, of sensual presence, poise and too-cool, disdainful and casual connection, enthralling us even as he reaches demurely for a mic hidden beneath the floor. I don’t know how we’ve managed to keep him in Brisbane… Can we still say parochial things like that?

 

 

Beneath some beautiful lighting by Christine Felmingham, Sarah Winter’s design puts us right at home in any number of share houses during uni years, making use of various levels and all four corners of the intimate Visy stage, and placing the accomplished musicians (James Lees, Ruth Gardner, Richard Grantham, Brett Harris and Karl O’Shea) behind a scrim and in an actual Paddington living room. Really. I swear it’s our place off Latrobe Tce. Or Susan’s Kelvin Grove house. Or Marnie’s Red Hill house. Or Lyndelle’s or maybe Annie’s parents’ place. Or a random St Lucia address that preceded coffee and gelato and too much wine and table soccer and intense conversations with actors and the Italians after knockoffs under the Eiffel Tower on Park Road… The memories come flooding back and I think there are probably really bad late-night, red-eyed, smokey, blurry photos of the parties in any or all of these spaces. You know, actual photos, in photo boxes, that have never been seen on social media (and nor will they ever be). 

 

This is one of the marks of a decent show, though, isn’t it? It pulls you in, even as you resist and don’t recognise much of the music (I don’t mind telling you that right through uni I was still listening to a heap of Single Gun Theory and Indigo Girls and show tunes and I don’t remember what else), and it doesn’t let you go until it’s time to leave, and drive home through all those roadworks (six sections, people, SIX SECTIONS OF ONE LANE OPEN ONLY AT 40KM/HOUR), and marking devising pieces before morning. No wonder I’m tired.

 

 

The Sound of a Finished Kiss is such a sweet new thing, I want to challenge the makers to lift it a bit and find the places it can continue to keep us engaged; these are in between sections of dialogue, with a number of the songs going on for longer than necessary, sometimes by two or three verses, so at 90 minutes it feels like the show drags at times. The pace at one point is helped considerably with the fun and ironic execution of Neridah Waters’ choreography.

 

With its deep insight and some dark and topical content, its wonderful reflection on an era and its bunch of misfit, perfect-for-each-other friends (yeah, c’mon, now you know them), this production could literally bring the party to wherever it shows. Like Soi Cowboy (it was one of those amazing creative developments, like Hanako, which I’ve never finished writing about and yet often reference), and unlike many others confidently charging you full price for the privilege of seeing them, this is one of the few new works to actually, genuinely be ready for their opening night, only begging the most minimal work, only in my opinion, before a return season somewhere, surely. 

 

The Sound of A Finished Kiss closes on Saturday. It’s not just for The Go-Betweens fans. Go see for yourself.

 

Production pics by Greg Harm

 

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27
Nov
16

The Lady of the House of Love

The Lady of the House of Love

Brisbane Powerhouse with Electric Moon

Brisbane Powerhouse Turbine Studio

November 24 – 27 2016

Reviewed by Xanthe Coward

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FOLLOW ME.

Sandro Colarelli’s The Lady of the House of Love brings Jake Diefenbach’s extraordinary original song cycle and Daniel Evans’ luscious adaptation of Angela Carter’s vampire queen tales to the stage in true gothic style. It’s one of my favourite productions ever, instantly, and it just might be one of the most perfectly crafted and presented boutique cabaret works of all time. I hope you saw it. Even if you’d seen it before (2008 & 2013) this is a dark, alluring tale told so beautifully intimately it could easily be enjoyed again, just as you listened time and time again as a child to your favourite fairy tales, or you might now watch the first two or three seasons of True Blood a second time, or a third time because Alexander Skarsgard…

LA PAPESSE. LA MORT. LA TOUR ABOLIE.

Colarelli is a master storyteller, a captivating performer, creating old world horror and charm in just one look, and glorious life and death in a single breath. (And the application of the breath and the voice here is impressive). The beauty of the piece is in its imagery, effortlessly conjured by Colarelli using Diefenbach’s haunting compositions, and the full extent of the vocal range and evocative language. Every word is deliberate, every vowel and consonant exquisitely shaped and delivered, the voice rich and full, words falling over us like the largest, heaviest raindrops. We sit in the candlelight and let ourselves be drenched in a world of the darkest beauty/horror.

WISDOM. DEATH. DISSOLUTION.

The High Priestess. Death. The Tower. Colarelli tells of how The Countess, forlorn in her mother’s bridal gown and looking for welcome relief from her life of living death, lures the men who come to her door. One night, when her tarot cards offer love for the first time, a British soldier appears and she seduces him with her red lips and tragic timeless beauty. The soldier is taken in by her and desires only to comfort her. As The Countess discards her gown, her dark glasses fall and shatter on the floor. She cuts herself on a shard of glass and the soldier kisses her wound to stop the blood. The next morning he discovers The Countess dead, clutching a (highly erotically charged and beautifully symbolic) rose, which he takes and puts into water in his efforts to revive (“resurrect”) it. The soldier is overwhelmed by the flower’s “corrupt, brilliant, baleful splendour” and prepares to take up arms in France.

The beauty, ache and enduring quality of Diefenbach’s original compositions means this music lingers long after the lights have come up, and the iTunes release of the show’s soundtrack (2013) means we can disappear again and again into the luscious life and death of The Countess. I’ve been lost in it for days again. If only the entire show was made available on audible.com.au

PSYCHOTIC. EROTIC. PERFECT.

Through A Window is vaguely reminiscent of Adele’s Someone Like You and Racing Into Springtime has an early, stripped back Tori Amos feel, as the innocent soldier/prey is drawn to the castle, before the seduction begins proper with a succession of enchanting songs interspersed with narrative (Too Many Roses, Across the Threshold and Becoming). The Exchange could be either the first or final heartbreaking track in a box office smash hit, so cinematic are its eerie discordant sounds and perfect plot summary.

COME TO ME.

Colarelli is nothing less than mesmerising as the tormented temptress, the naive soldier and Narrator.

The Lady of the House of Love is probably the most beautifully realised, darkly erotic and unashamedly exotic boutique production I’ve ever seen. I’m so glad I didn’t miss it. If only I had the venue in which to put this performer and this production on a regular basis. We all need more Colarelli in our lives, and probably a good deal more of this brand of dark and sensual storytelling, without the hype and inevitable disappointment that comes from Hollywood having a hand in it.

There was a soldier, there was a girl…….

10
Jun
15

Queensland Cabaret Festival opens tonight!

 

We’re sending the lucky winners of our double passes to ABSINTHE tonight!

Have fun, Chris, Tara and Gail!

 

Meanwhile, in New Farm…

 

 

Queensland Cabaret Festival opens at Brisbane Powerhouse TONIGHT!

 

 

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Tonight’s Voices of Vice lineup features a mouth-watering feast of festival performers and local legends including Bethan Ellsmore, Dirty Sexy Politics, Cienda McNamara, Tyrone Noonan, Alison St Ledger, Lizzie Moore, Sandro Colarelli, Greg Bird, Rebecca Grennan, David Megarrity and Bridget Boyle.

 

 

Feel free to flaunt your bad habits, perversions, and licentiousness in our den of iniquity where too much is never enough. Indulge in this celebration of tantalising transgressions, which are guaranteed to be delightful, delicious and a little bit wrong.

 

 

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In the immortal words of Tom Waits, “There ain’t no Devil, there’s just God when he’s drunk” so leave your better angels at the door – we won’t tell if you won’t!

 

 

 

 

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15
May
15

My Love Had a Black Speed Stripe

 

My Love Had a Black Speed Stripe

Fractal Theatre Productions

The Hut, Jean Howie Drive

May 13 – 23 2015

 

 Reviewed by Xanthe Coward

 

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Love me, love my Holden.

 

Cars and Australian suburban culture go hand in hand. In 1973, author Henry Williams was working in Brisbane’s Acacia Ridge when he wrote the novel, My Love Had a Black Speed Stripe, an ode to the Holden Monaro centred around a racist, misogynist bully named Ron who’s more than a little obsessed with his dream set of wheels.

 

Fast-forward to decades later, and the lost Australian classic has been doing the rounds on stage for a few years. If you’ve previously missed what amounts to a black comedy of circus, mime, body percussion, film and car-porn poetry, here’s your chance to check it out. You’ll laugh, and you’ll see the iconic Monaro presented as a living, breathing organism.

 

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Refreshingly, My Love Had a Black Speed Stripe doesn’t contain too much obscene language or the graphic sex and violence that so many writers and directors insist on shoving down our throats at the moment (yes, until we’re gagging on it #sorrynotsorry), yet it’s hard-hitting enough to challenge us on all levels.

 

Brenna Lee-Cooney’s adaptation of Henry Williams’ classic ode to a car is hardcore Australian theatre at its best. Just as well it’s an intelligent company staging it, or we might miss the awful truth behind its bleak, blokey humour and be left with too-obvious crass nothingness.

 

Deeply entrenched in our culture, and highlighted by the black comedy in this piece, is the insidious dislike of and blatant disregard for anyone who is not regarded as one of our own. Migrants and the wife (and women in general) cop a hiding in this production, and we never see them get their own back because the revenge plot revolves around racist, misogynist Ron and his need to maintain his unique worldview.

 

Eugene Gilfedder played the multiple roles at La Boite in 2002 as part of The Holden Plays for the Brisbane (Energex) Festival, with Ian Lawson in the directors’ chair. I suspect this production is slightly different…

 

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It’s a tough little show with moments of fluid, silvery, abstract perfection (in case we weren’t getting the correlation between car bodies and womens’ bodies). The physical theatre is at once strange and perfectly suitable, executed with skill and precision by Vanja Matula, Zoe DePlevitz & Beth Incognito. There’s an element of mime, which brings the action at times to a slow dream-like state – is this really happening?! Hot tip: sit towards the front of the room because there ain’t no tiered seating in the hut on Jean Howie Drive.

 

Colarelli is in fine form as the abhorrent Ron (don’t call him Ronald!), beautifully weighing up some difficult choices in life, like whether or not to ever speak to the “commo” neighbour again, after he’s unable to identify a 5 / 8 ring spanner. I love Ron’s private moments of contemplation, bathed in deceptively soft white light, little philosophical soliloquies (some are pre-recorded and come across with even more menace as he glares at us), which lead us to gasp or groan aloud at his ignorance and intolerance of others – OH MY GOD. Did he really say that?! Yes. Yes, he did.

 

Having never read the original text by Henry Williams, the end comes as a complete surprise. The lengths to which the man goes to to exact revenge upon the poor souls who don’t fit his worldview… Really, we should have known. But who could imagine? In the first five minutes of the show we see exactly what sort of man Ron has been taught to be. He’s truly appalling but what the WHAT? WOW.

 

A lesser actor would make a dog’s breakfast of this role, rushing through the crass comparative comments and hurling rather than snarling insults, or indulging in the wrong moments, missing the point entirely.

 

The violence of the text is juxtaposed against pure poetry in the movement of DePlevitz, Incognito and Matula. Matula is at his best here, in multiple roles, but especially as that annoying neighbour, Mel Moody.

 

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The ensemble’s strength and poise, and their ability to work in perfect synchronicity (in fantastic shiny speedway gear) underscores some of the most beautiful (and comical) moments in the show. Yes! Despite the dark content and shocking conclusion, My Love Had a Black Speed Stripe is, in parts, actually hilarious…well, horribly so.

 

Side note: Since I finished feeling sick to my stomach through much of Christos Tsiolkas’s Dead Europe, in the car now I’m listening to Jon Kakauer’s Missoula – Rape and the Justice System in a College Town. Some of the accounts send shivers down my spine. It’s the same discomfort I experience while watching Ron run his hand down the torso of his wife, Rose, as the actor backbends into position to become the car’s gearstick.

 

DePlevitz is wholly Rose and whatever else is required, in terms of car parts, machinary parts, etc, which gives her reading of the role of Wife-with-a-capital-w a deeply disturbing underlying awareness that maybe, just maybe, she deserves more. Have I ever seen this actor in anything before? If not why not? DePlevitz’s performance is heart-achingly on point.

 

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I can’t imagine what this production would be like without its hardcore garage party soundtrack (with voice/guitar/lyrics & additional music by Finn Gilfedder-Cooney), the sound effects and pre-recorded soliloquies, and strangely colourful lighting states (Sound by Michael Bouwman. Lighting by Geoff Squires. Design Nicole Macqueen). I can’t picture a one-man show now that I’ve seen this ensemble’s polished body percussion and streamlined movement applied in the most imaginative ways I’ve seen outside of an actors’ workshop.

 

As we realise with horror what’s going to happen, and the play accelerates to reach its inevitable grisly end, I forget for a moment where I am. I’m surprised to find I’m exactly where I started, I haven’t moved, perched on the top of my seat with my feet on the actual seat in order to better see the performers who had begun on the black & white linoleum looking floor. I’m gripping the metal top of the chair.

 

 

“I watched my Monaro move off like some proud, doomed galleon…”

 

 

Terror. Horror. Unspeakable. I CAN’T EVEN. And then the epilogue. And then a rousing curtain call. And then the cold air outside.

 

I’m so impressed with this slick production. Lee-Cooney has assembled a stellar cast and turned some old-school theatrical tricks to create a deeply affecting, genuinely thrilling production, which I feel should be re-staged in front of the towering brick walls of Brisbane Powerhouse, filmed professionally and distributed to schools and theatre groups everywhere as an example of LOOK WHAT CAN BE CREATED WITH BODIES AND VOICES AND SOUND AND AN EMPTY SPACE.

 

Be one of the lucky few to see My Love Had a Black Speed Stripe during Anywhere Theatre Festival and you’ll be hearing for years to come about how so many others regrettably missed it.

 

 

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01
Aug
13

The Lady of the House of Love

 

The Lady Of The House of Love

Presented by the Queensland Music Festival, Brisbane City Council and Metro Arts

Metro Arts Sue Benner Theatre

26 July – 3 August 2013

 

Reviewed by Guy Frawley

 

Let’s just cut straight to the chase here, I’m about to give you roughly 500 words on why I think you should pull out your credit card, log onto the metro arts website and book yourself (and hopefully your friends) tickets to go and see The Lady of The House of Love. If you’re not in a reading mood however, let me just lead with the sentence below.

 

This show is a one hour reduction of utter professionalism that showcases everything I love about the creative process.

 

Inspired? Please, do yourself a favour and book yourself a ticket or two. Intrigued? Read on.

 

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On Friday night I walked into Metro Arts with little to no idea of what I was about to witness, a basic level of Facebook stalking had educated me enough to know that the British author Angela Carter, in the form of her anthology The Bloody Chamber, had provided the source material for the evening. However, apart from this and the glam rock marketing photos, I was flying blind. Goth chic styling and a 70s horror literature pedigree alone isn’t something to sniff at, but Sandro Colarelli injects this performance with sufficient backbone to rib a second Victorian lace corset! (More on the corset later).

 

Walking into the theatre and taking my stage side seat, my curiosity was further piqued by the staging. At the same time monastic and lush, the simple down spotlight shining through the intricately carved wooden partition, and the dusting of rose petals across the naked stage began to set the scene. Set designer Josh McIntosh and Lighting designer Andrew Meadows really managed quite a lot with very little.

 

As the stage darkened and the first haunting musical notes began to sound, Colarelli emerged from behind the wooden screen and began to welcome us into his theatrical inner sanctum. The meaning of the partition itself seemed to warp throughout the show as many times as Colarelli, from altar, to boudoir screen to confessional partition. We were not met however by a priest offering benedictions, but by a siren of the gilded silver screen, wrapping her enchanted and undead talons around our very beings and dragging us into the magical realism of Angela Carter’s dark world.

 

A story told from two perspectives, that of a cunningly frail, un-dead nymphette and a naïve, young English soldier, Daniel Evans has done a really beautiful job adapting the script from Carter’s original prose. After seeing this show I tracked some sections of The Bloody Chamber and Evans has managed to translate the sumptuous usage of language and imagery that Carter seems to do so well.

 

Maybe it’s a product of his experience with the physical theatre company Zen Zen Zo, but Colarelli is a man who is in absolute control of every inch of his body for every second of his time on stage. A talent that makes his attempt to portray both of the previously mentioned characters a complete success. His vocal abilities were also an absolute delight to witness. The character and emotion he was able to convey, even whilst jumping from perspective to perspective in the blink of an eye, was truly enviable. That he was able to do all of this whilst constricted within a cinched corset made it all the more impressive.

 

I’ve always loved vampire fiction, my first real introduction being Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles, and after the disappointing failure of the Elton John penned musical Lestat I think she should have a word or two with Jake Diefenbach, who served as both composer and musical director. I doubt the creative team would be overly thrilled with me using the phrase ‘vampire musical’ anywhere here, but from what I saw on Friday, Diefenbach  would have been a far better fit than Elton John. His score was absolutely fantastic and you’d be a fool to leave the theatre, as I did, without purchasing yourself a copy of the soundtrack that’s available. I’ll be swinging by Metro Arts when I’m back in Brisbane later this week, and will be grabbing myself a copy as I haven’t been able to get the music out of my head!

 

 

I read an interview Colarelli had given just before opening and he mentioned how blessed he felt to be working with such an amazing team. It’s no wonder, because from what I saw it would appear as if every single person involved in the development, production, staging and performance of this piece is as talented in their own field as Colarelli is as a performer.

Now go and see this show! I just might see you there during my second time around.

 

 

07
May
12

Vikram and the Vampire

Vikram and the Vampire

Zen Zen Zo

The Old Museum

3rd May – 19th May 2012

Reviewed by Meredith Mclean

There is one thing I must confess before I say anything about Zen Zen Zo’s production of Vickram and The Vampire. I am not a dancer. I’m not even quite sure I can muster an awkward jig in the public eye let alone on stage. At least not since the day I tripped on my own foot and flailed down a flight of stairs amongst many of my peers circa 2008. But I don’t resent those who know how to command a space with movement. Instead I admire them. To be graceful or fierce just by stirring the body is an art and it makes me smile when I see the right people out there doing exactly that.

Vickram and The Vampire is a fantastic concept for physical theatre. It overwhelms the audience with tales of the ancient Hindu myths. King Vickram is proud, but not entirely wise. Try as he may to take the vampire in a tree he is instead faced with terror in the cunning vampire’s tales.

Laughter is to be expected. But so is astonishment. What is presented to us didn’t rise from any frivolous origin or light piece of writing. Vickram and The Vampire is an adaption, and a wonderful one at that, of studies from a different era. What was originally titled The King and The Corpse is a commiseration between East and West (something familiar to Zen Zen Zo), brewing intricate tales reflecting on the eternal conflict with the forces of evil. It was written by Heinrich Zimmer, a man often quoted as bringing eastern art to western culture and a good friend of the iconic Carl Jung.

Upon linking all of this as it is transcribed to Zen Zen Zo’s stage the parallels are by no means accidental. These collaborators aren’t lost amongst the many theatres Brisbane has to offer. Zen Zen Zo is distinct, vivid and in a wonderfully weird way imposing. Their choreography draws from the culture of Asian dance-theatre bringing a strange feeling of being transported across continents without leaving your seat. These guys perform with energy that I feel needs to be described as drastic. There is urgency in their movement that makes me excited to be there. This is physical theatre in a constantly palpable state of cresting and falling like waves, or beating like drums. You mustn’t question the scheme of Vickram and The Vampire. All you can do is take in each movement of each moment.

The ensemble cast who bring this play to life can be a kaleidoscopic, catastrophic wonder. Then there is hush as they use their bodies to create immaculate emotion if there is such a thing. They move like liquid. As water fills a cup these performers fill each intricate space to portray a role on the stage.

The collective force of the ensemble cast falls into line under the direction of Michael Futcher. I am a firm believer; you could even call me a Futcher Fan. I’ve seen his directorial work in The Wishing Well and The Kursk; which I would gladly see either of them again. In both the aforementioned plays and now Vickram and The Vampire, I have consistently seen his understanding of space and light. His extensive credits in directing roles as well as acting roles only reconfirms this for me.

At first I was simply going to recommend you see this fantastic example of physical theatre that Zen Zen Zo has to offer. However, May 12th is their Gala Night. Zen Zen Zo is inviting you to not only see Vickram and the Vampire but also share a glass of champagne with the director and cast. Take this chance to learn more about the undertones of the play and what happens behind the scenes. If you miss out on this performance I assure you that you will regret it.




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