tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80251862678297580022024-03-08T18:43:36.258+11:00Canberra DilettanteReviews of theatre, books, restaurants and anything else . OK, obviously mainly theatre.Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-86099805111898573232013-05-07T23:44:00.002+10:002013-05-07T23:44:30.856+10:00Frankenstein (Ensemble Theatre) - Street TheatreDon't think about it! Just plunge in.<br />
<br />
Playwright Nick Dear's re-telling of Mary Shelley's seminal horror novel <i>Frankenstein</i> is rankest melodrama, but Ensemble Theatre and director Mark Kilmurry pull it off in style. But: Do Not Try This At Home, any amateur companies seeking to ride the wave of a familiar title. I'm not sure it would have worked at all without the unflinching commitment of a very talented cast, and principally a quite extraordinary physical and emotional performance by Lee Jones as the Monster.<br />
<br />
The set is a polished circle surrounded by a curtain on a rail - reminiscent of the Bell <i>King Lear</i> of a couple of years ago - and lit by a collection of steampunky light bulbs liberally distributed at varying heights. It's effective, but not quite gothic enough for my taste and this particular story. The ambience is enhanced by a solo cellist (Heather Stratford) playing creepy atmospheric music (by Elena Kats-Chernin) - in a very steampunk skirt. (There's a lot of solo cello about theatre at the moment, has anyone else noticed?)<br />
<br />
In lesser hands the opening sequence - the birth of the Monster - could well have become farcical, but in this production instead brought home the terror of a full-grown creature suddenly thrust into the world like a newborn baby, raw and blinking an uncomprehending. I confess I was disappointed by the loincloth; I am no fan of gratuitous nudity in theatre, but this would not have been gratuitous, and it was the only part of the production that seemed a pulling of punches. I also would have liked the Monster to have been a lot more monstrous in appearance, but I can see how that might have flirted with caricature, and that would have ruined everything. As it is, Jones manages a twisted carriage with a powerful physical presence and a total emotional investment that is purely compelling.<br />
<br />
He is ably matched by Andrew Henry as Victor Frankenstein - ultimately far more twisted and monstrous than his misbegotten experiment - though in one scene of high passion my mind did flit briefly to that episode of <i>Friends</i> where Joey is cast against Gary Oldman, who explains to him that truly Great Acting involves a considerable amount of spit.<br />
<br />
The plot is ridiculous, and the language is so florid in places that it could easily have risked silliness, but the momentum is so relentless, and Jones so unwavering in his performance, that the whole effect becomes convincing. Just go with it. The ultimate testament is that even my mercurial attention span did not regret the lack of an interval, and not once did I think of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=co6-tYS9k1U" target="_blank">Peter Boyle.</a>Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-45967524785057281922013-04-26T22:54:00.000+10:002013-04-26T22:54:12.761+10:00Under Milkwood - Canberra RepertoryYes, yes, it's been a very long hiatus. I am so insanely behind in my reviews - and so frantically busy in the day job - that I was pretty much giving up on ever getting back here. But I've just realised that there are only two performances left of Rep's production of <i>Under Milkwood</i>, and it is so transcendently wonderful that if there is a chance of getting one more bum on a seat then I owe it both to Rep and to the possessor of that fortunate posterior.<br />
<br />
I won't say too much, or I'll never hit the Publish button, so this is probably not really a review. But Duncan Ley has done an absolutely astonishing job with this; the ensemble is perfect, the set wonderful, the costumes bang on, and the lighting and sound possibly the best I've seen. And Duncan Driver as the narrator is glorious; his voice is rich without being unctuous, round without being plummy; I could listen to him read the phone directory and instead he is reading Dylan Thomas' brilliant, rolling, heartrending prose. <br />
<br />
When this ends you'll discover that your mouth is open, your hand is on your heart, and you've been holding your breath for minutes. Please go see this!<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
PS: seen and not reviewed since Pocket Shakespeare:<br />
<br />
December 2012:<br />
<i>Glimpse </i>(42downstairs)<br />
<br />
January 2013:<br />
<i>Oliver!</i> (Ickle Pickle)<br />
<br />
February 2013<br />
<i>The Magistrate </i>(NT Live)<br />
<i>West Side Story </i>(Free Rain)<br />
<i>The Secret River </i>(Sydney Theatre Company)<br />
<i>Calendar Girls </i>(Canberra Rep)<br />
<i>Les Miserables </i>(Canberra Philharmonic)<br />
<i>Henry IV </i>(Bell Shakespeare)<br />
<br />
March 2013<br />
<i>Animal Farm </i>(shakeandstir)<br />
<i>Dear Epson</i> - Danny Bhoy<br />
<i>It's My Party & I'll Cry if I Want To (HIT Productions)</i><br />
<i>Thursday </i>(Brink Productions)<br />
<i>Men of Substance - </i>Tripod<br />
<i>Vakomana Va Viri Ve Zimbabwe </i>(Two Gents Productions)<i> </i><br />
<i>Kupenga Kwa Hamlet </i>(Two Gents Productions)<br />
<i><br /></i>
April 2013<br />
<i>Mindbender - </i>Ross Noble<br />
<i>Richard, Prosessor of Literature - </i>Stephane Georis<br />
<i>Eurobeat </i>(SUPA Productions)<br />
<i>As We Forgive </i>(Collected Works)<br />
<i>Under Milkwood </i>(Canberra Repertory)<br />
<i>Pea! </i>(Serious Theatre)<br />
<i>People </i>(NT Live)<br />
<i>I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change </i>(Queanbeyan City Council)<br />
<i>One Man, Two Guv'nors</i> (Sydney Theatre Company)<br />
<i>Weimar Cabaret </i>(Barry Humphries, Meow Meow & the ACO)<br />
<i>Piece of Cake</i> - The Kransky Sisters<br />
<br />
I have notes; I may get around to these. But no guarantees! And I have a feeling I've missed a couple.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />
<br />Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-7716185060536902422012-12-03T02:22:00.001+11:002012-12-03T02:41:39.125+11:00Street Two: The Polyphonic BardI am a big fan of Caroline Stacey's <i>Made in Canberra </i>initiative at the Street Theatre, even if I haven't always been 100 per cent enthusiastic about some of the individual projects. So it's nice to be able to close out the year with one which I unequivocally enjoyed.<br />
<br />
Tamzin Nugent's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><i>The Polyphonic Bard</i> is a sort of Baroque revue, with music by Tallis, Purcell, and others of the era impeccably sung by the Pocket Score Company, and interspersed with readings and scenes from Shakespeare. Gillian Schwab's lighting design is wonderful, often seeming to create whole new spaces, though I was less certain about the set, hung about with nooses of thick rope. </span><br />
<br />
Seth Edwards-Ellis does an equally fine job on sound, most notably in the finale, where the Pocket Score guys sing over building loops of recorded choirs, to quite mesmerising and moving effect. Gorgeous voices all: David Yeardley (counter-tenor, and harpist, so clearly unafraid of stereotypes), Paul Eldon & John Virgoe (tenors), Daniel Sanderson (baritone), and Ian Blake (bass).<br />
<br />
Of the cast of CADA students performing the Shakespearean excerpts, the sole female, Crystal Rose, despite an unfortunate blonde wig, was a clear standout, especially in her scene from <i>Taming of the Shrew</i>. And Nick Beecher deserves a mention, if only because he doesn't appear to have got one in the programme, and for sheer versatility - this is the fourth stage I've seen him in this year, and all in wildly diverse roles.<br />
<br />
The music is the reason to come to this, though, and it's a shame that only four performances were scheduled - with luck perhaps we may see a reprise in the New Year, or perhaps other explorations complementary music and literature from other eras (the Victorians would be a thing of beauty, for example!) In any event: this was well worth the pittance of a ticket price.Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-47175258793004067332012-11-30T00:00:00.001+11:002012-11-30T00:32:39.655+11:00Street Theatre: Finucane & Smith's Glory BoxThis is hard to review, basically because I thought my ears were
bleeding for most of it - despite my wearing the earplugs recommended by<a href="http://ccc-canberracriticscircle.blogspot.com.au/2012/11/glory-box-by-moira-finucane-and-jackie.html" target="_blank"> Frank McCone</a>
- which was a tad distracting. Some of the show was fun (some just
puzzling), but most of it was ruined by stupidly, pointlessly,
painfully, harmfully high-decibel canned music. Lots of complaints from
fellow patrons at interval about the volume - and quite a few people
left (one whole table on the stage was abandoned<i> </i>for Act Two). I am not a wuss about loud music, but this literally hurts.<br />
<br />
So
if you value your aural health, don't go. I am really not exaggerating,
and if the Street is not willing to moderate the volume then they must
certainly be hoping that <a href="http://www.worksafety.act.gov.au/health_safety" target="_blank">Mark McCabe </a>doesn't have a free evening during the run.<br />
<br />
With
the exception of the always astonishing Maude Davey, and faultless
performances on trapeze and hula hoop from circus artiste Anna Lumb,<i> Glory Box</i> lacks the novelty and subversive edge Finucane & Smith gave us in their original <i>Burlesque Hour</i>.
Demi-monde darling Moira Finucane essentially reprised a food-based
repertoire we've mostly seen before. An attractive young man in swimming
trunks did a very silly and unrevealing quasi-strip-tease, and a couple
of dancers krumped in vintage lingerie, but these acts are hardly
cutting edge. Worst in show was an ingenue in a few strategic diamante
strands who offered an unedifying karaoke rendition of "Feelin' Good"
(NB: Ladies, if you are nubile and naked, it may not be your singing
that is getting the applause). There is a novel wettish-fetish scene,
but I'm not sure it was worth the elaborate set up we had to wait
through in order for it to proceed.<br />
<br />
There's lots of
audience participation, and plenty of people seemed to be swilling the
Kool-Aid along with their champers, so rusted-on fans of burlesque - and
Finucane - may well enjoy this. If you buy table seating on the stage,
you will be sitting behind the speakers, which may help - unless you're
shy. If you're sitting in the theatre proper, invest in really good
earplugs and sit as far back as you can. It will still be too loud for
comfort, but may not actively rupture your eardrums.<br />
<br />
Good luck.<br />
<br />
<br />Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-18984624895537578162012-11-29T19:03:00.004+11:002012-11-30T00:53:32.628+11:00Canberra Critics Circle Awards 2012The Canberra Critics Circle met a few mights ago to announce the recipients of its 2012 Awards for excellence. The full list and details of awards can be found on the Circle <a href="http://ccc-canberracriticscircle.blogspot.com.au/" target="_blank">website. </a><br />
<br />
I was particularly pleased to see recognition for Everyman Theatre's production of <i><a href="http://canberradilettante.blogspot.com.au/2012/07/godpool-no-water.html" target="_blank">pool, no water</a></i>, Rose Shorney's excellent musical direction of <i>Titanic</i> and <i><a href="http://canberradilettante.blogspot.com.au/2012/08/philo-hairspray.html" target="_blank">Hairspray</a></i>, and Caroline Stacey's many, varied and innovative projects at the Street Theatre. I was a bit disappointed that there wasn't a nod in the Visual Arts category for Vivienne Lightfoot's exhibition <i>Substance</i> at ANCA - and it would have been nice to have seen a valedictory mention of Jorg Schmeisser's posthumous exhibition at Beaver Galleries. And though a gong for the Rugby Choir is probably well due, it's a shame that it didn't arrive until after the departure of long-time musical director Andrea Clifford, who laid so much of the groundwork for the Choir's success.<br />
<br />
I like the CCC Awards. I don't always agree with them - there are a couple this year that I thought were downright naff - but that only goes to show that any "critic" who claims to be truly objective is either a fool or a charlatan. The Circle has credibility and gravitas, the awards are genuinely local, and open to all, and no award may be made at all in a category unless the Circle members consider the quality justifies it.<br />
<br />
Congratulations to all those who were recognised, and thanks to the Canberra Critics Circle for taking the time and investing in the effort required to acknowledge the work of our local artists and performers.<br />
<br />
<br />Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-7106383025031629892012-11-26T01:01:00.003+11:002012-11-26T09:19:55.370+11:00Canberra Rep: Improbable FictionYou can always trust Alan Ayckbourn for something to watch in the Festive Season - and this is another Christmas cracker from Rep. Lighter even than the average Ayckbourn, the second act in particular ascends into a farce that rivals <i>Noises Off </i> for frenzy, timing and busy-ness, and exceeds it for absolute synergy of cast and crew (it's the first time I've seen a cast bow to the backstage, and truly the crew deserved a curtain call of its own). Director Corille Fraser has out Learninged (Walter) Learning with this production of <i>Improbable Fiction.</i><br />
<br />
The action is framed by yet another unbelievably good set, this time designed by Wayne Shepherd (who also wrote the original music), and constructed by Russell Brown and his henchmen to an extremely high standard - it's a large Tudor interior, with staircase and second floor corridor - and people were thundering up and down and along them all night. I've worked in flimsier offices. Actually I've lived in flimsier accommodation, especially in my student years.<br />
<br />
This space hosts a meeting of the Pendon Writers' Circle, as dysfunctional as any small committee - and as entertaining to observe, provided you're not a member. There a few blocking issues which may already have been remedied, with some members of the circle facing away from the audience and occasionally hiding each other (from some places, Vivvi, Jess and Brevis are all in a line, and only Vivvi can clearly be seen - but she faces the back, so can't as easily be heard). Unnecessary, as the story provides for some members not to turn up, presumably in order to make a semi-circle arrangement possible without looking contrived. It's also true that this first act drags a little, but not a lot (the tea-pouring scene is deliberately excruciating), but it's all a set-up for the fabulous, frenetic payoff of Act Two, in which ... No, that would be a spoiler. Pretty much any description of Act Two will be a spoiler, damnit.<br />
<br />
Jerry Hearn anchors all of the action as part-time author of instruction manuals, Arnold, whose house this is. Anyone who caught Hearn's wonderful performance a few years back in Rep's production of Stoppard's <i>On The Razzle </i>can only have been longing to see him in another farce, and he does not disappoint (this is also the nicest character he's played in years, I think!). He's a perfect Arnold, and as Act Two wears on, increasingly hilarious. Another standout was Euan Bowen as master of the malapropism, sci-fi wannabe Clem (and a host of other distinctly less insipid characters), who I think garnered more spontaneous applause on several of his exits than I've ever heard before in a Canberra theatre.<br />
<br />
New Canberran Kate Blackhurst is impressive as Jess: farmer, lesbian quasi-separatist, and aspiring writer of florid gothic romances. (She and Hearn had flawless accents, and we know by now that I care about this). Christa de Jager, as Grace, the meek executrix of risibly execrable children's illustrations, seemed to struggle a little with her North Country accent in Act One, but was quite excellent in her variety of arguably tougher roles in Act Two. Heather Spong, introduced in Act one as the prolific but inexplicably unpublished crime writer Vivvi, nailed all of her characters from the outset but was the most fun to watch as the spontaneously lachrymose Sergeant Fiona. And Madeline Kennedy, as Arnold's mother-sitter Ilsa, has come a very long way since her (perfectly good) Chava in <i>Fiddler</i> back in February; she shows lovely depth and versatility, as well as admirable stagecraft for a relative neophyte.<br />
<br />
Special mention must also be made of Andrew Kay, who stepped in at only two or three days notice to understudy for Jasan Savage* in the assorted roles belonging to Brevis, retired schoolteacher and curmudgeonly composer of small-scale musicals. (His <i>Treasure Island</i> for the local school garnered ten curtain calls. Says the encouraging Arnold: "They often don't even get that on the West End!" I LOL'ed). We were warned in an opening announcement that Kay was a last-minute <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">substitute and might have to refer to the script here and there. And he did - though beautifully covered by clever use of props - but still, what a quite remarkable feat. The dialogue in this play is highly complicated, and the physical action (trust me) considerably more so, and Kay was an entertainment in himself. In fact, while it is easy to imagine the veteran Savage as blustery Brevis in Act One, by Act Two it was hard to see how anyone other than Kay could have taken on the role given the versatility - and physicality - the second half requires. This is one occasion when getting the understudy will not, I promise you, detract from your enjoyment by the smallest iota.</span><br />
<br />
But back to the crew - Shepherd's set is revealed in Act Two to be as cunning as it is attractive, and ought to sprint away laughing with the CAT this year; the timing of those operating it is just as exceptional. Chris Ellyard's lighting is precisely perfect, and Michael Moloney's sound nicely complementary (with a minor early misfire neatly fielded and milked for a laugh by Jerry Hearn). Miriam Miley-Read's costumes must be as cleverly constructed as they are appealing, as innumerable lightning-fast costume changes were executed without the faintest hint of effort from the audience's perspective - there must<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"> have been a small army of dressers in the wings. Actually, there must have been an army of every sort of backstage crew contributing to this extraordinarily smooth delivery of a very technically demanding and complicated play, and its members - led by highly experienced Stage Manager Joyce Gore, and Hazel Taylor on props - should be very proud of what they've achieved here.</span><br />
<br />
This may be the best farce we've seen from Rep since their 2007 production of <i>Noises Off. </i>It deserves to sell out, especially at Rep's ridiculously low ticket prices, so get your seats ASAP and enjoy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
* Word is that Jasan Savage is hospitalised and quite seriously unwell, and all possible positive thoughts and wishes are with him and his family for his speedy and complete recovery.Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-53308817030522537012012-11-22T04:20:00.002+11:002012-11-26T13:56:13.213+11:00The Playhouse: Private Lives (Belvoir)I've been looking forward all year to this: Noel Coward, the Tobies Schmitz & Truslove, a smart modern perspective from the Belvoir team - what's not to love? I thoroughly enjoyed this - and yet I'm not quite persuaded they entirely pulled it off.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Toby Schmitz is an outstanding Elyot - attractive, charming and underneath it, a deeply awful human being. Zahra Newman, cast against type, didn't totally convince me as Amanda until about two-thirds in when a costume change transformed her at last into the cool femme fatale of Coward's original vision. She seems too tomboyish to be the woman the dialogue is describing (and the jokes about getting a tan don't sit comfortably).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Eloise Mignon, on the other hand, is cast utterly to type as the seemingly insubstantial Sybil, and so is man-of-the-moment Toby Truslove as stolid Victor. Truslove seems to have injured himself, appearing throughout with a leg-brace and cane, and I was impressed by the way in which this was used to actually enhance his character and actions; in fact it worked so neatly that I wasn't sure it was a real injury until he hobbled on for curtain call (and I turned up <a href="http://instagram.com/p/JTtv5qw8F0/" target="_blank">this photo</a> from backstage at Belvoir). And there's some lovely schtick from Mish Grigor as the French Maid of nobody's fantasies.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Schmitz's fabulous Benedick in Bell's production of <i>Much Ado About Nothing </i>last year showed that he excels at divesting a classic role of its baggage and giving it a fresh and contemporary inflection. In this production, director Ralph Myers has done a stellar job in eliciting the same from the whole cast - but there are still a few places where Coward's language is just too affected or dated to be delivered convincingly in a present-day voice. On the whole, though, there's almost no echo of the usual <i>Round the Horne </i>Fiona & Charles stuff - it's almost a reinterpretation, and without the veneer of Fraffly, Elyot and Amanda recover their edge (and nastiness).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's very, very funny stuff. But there are a number of things that in my view did not work well, and one of them was a terrible set. It's a stark white, inexpensive looking hotel corridor, featuring two numbered doors and a lift. (A hall table would have come in very useful.) Even leaving aside the question of why these four clearly moneyed and self-indulgent quasi-aristos are apparently honeymooning at the Queanbeyan Formule 1, why are they drinking their cocktails and squabbling in the hotel corridor? Yes, the convention of adjoining balconies might be annoyingly trope-ish, but it does actually work (beautifully, for example, in the <i>Frasier</i> homage episode <i>Adventures in Paradise</i>). This design choice smacks of heaving out the baby with the bathwater, and it isn't helped by oddly dim and inconsistent lighting. Nor is it improved in the second act, when instead of Amanda's apartment being the usual art deco dream, she and Elyot inexplicably haul a mattress into the cheap white living room and flop it down in front of the now equally inexplicable lift. </div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">The musical choices are wildly varied, and entertaining, but also not entirely a comfortable fit. A scene where Amanda and Elyot hurl themselves into an air-performance of Phil Collins is great fun to watch, but I found it discordant in the context of the play. On the other hand, the lovely <i>Some Day I'll Find You, </i>which Coward wrote especially for this play, was sadly conspicuous by its absence.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">These snipings are, of course, quite trivial - but then so, often, was Coward. In any event they should not deter you from a very enjoyable production, especially as Schmitz spends most of it in a terry-towelling robe. Recommended.</span></div>
Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-24791634383284871852012-11-22T02:43:00.000+11:002012-11-26T02:13:54.140+11:00Addressing the Backlog (the method in the madness)I've had a tough couple of weeks and am hideously behind with these reviews. I have ELEVEN to write, in fact, aargh. So here's the plan: I'll get on with the latest review (<i>Private Lives) </i>while it still has some relevance, and finish the ten missing ones behind it as opportunity arises. I'll backdate them so they still show in chronological order of viewing. So if you're looking for something in particular*, it will be worth checking back for it earlier in the thread, if that makes sense.<br />
<br />
Still to write:<br />
<br />
<i>Bare Witness</i> , by fortyfivedownstairs, at the Street (DONE!)<br />
<br />
<i>Sheila Diva, the Eco-Diva</i> by Kate Hosking at Street Two (DONE!)<br />
<br />
<i>Les Ballets Trockadero</i> at the Canberra Theatre<br />
<br />
<i>South Pacific </i>at the Princess, in Melbourne<br />
<br />
<i>Jesus Christ Superstar</i>, the broadcast of the new stadium production with Tim Minchin in it<br />
<br />
<i>Music</i>, the new Barry Oakley play, Melbourne Theatre Company<br />
<br />
<i>Elling, </i>also MTC, with Darren Gilshenan reprising the eponymous lead<br />
<br />
<i>Margaret, Queen of the Dessert</i>, TheatreWorks (actually, this can't be a review <i>per se, </i>as I only saw a preview)<br />
<br />
<i>A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to the Forum </i>at Her Majesty's in Melbourne. Don't wait for me to review it, though, just book your tickets and get yourself there by whatever means possible.<br />
<br />
<i>The Idea of North Christmas Concert </i>at the Street.<br />
<br />
and next off the blocks, as it's still showing here in Canberra:<br />
<br />
<i>Private Lives </i>(Belvoir), at the Playhouse. (DONE!)<br />
<br />
In the interim, for those who claim, albeit with some justice, that there's pretty much nothing I won't watch, <a href="http://blogs.crikey.com.au/curtaincall/2012/11/01/review-more-sex-please-were-seniors-comedy-theatre-melbourne/" target="_blank">a review by someone else of a show I have absolutely no desire to see </a> (though I've developed a morbid fascination for reading the remarkably uniform critiques.)<br />
<br />
A bientot.<br />
<i><br /></i>Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-3193225884712994702012-11-16T00:51:00.001+11:002012-11-16T00:52:20.640+11:00CYTC: 4:48 PsychosisWow, am I behind. For various reasons I haven't finished reviewing anything I've seen for the last two weeks, and that's a bit of a backlog. There are at least five reviews on their way, but in most cases it's too late to make any difference, so in the meantime I'd like to draw your attention to something there <b>is</b> still time for you to see. (Not me, though, unfortunately - I'm away).<br />
<br />
I've mentioned before that I'm a little afraid of the work of Sarah Kane, but there are two of her plays on my "to see" list, and one of them is <i>4:48 Psychosis</i>, which Canberra Youth Theatre Company is staging at the Courtyard until 21 November, directed by Karla Conway.<br />
<br />
This is a brave choice for a youth theatre company, dealing as it does with suicide - although this is not a company of children, but young adults. And in fact the play does more than "deal" with suicide - it's widely regarded as Kane's suicide note. It's named for the time in the morning when she most often woke despairing, and she took her own life three days before the premiere. So this is no confected, empathised, fictional take on suicide; this is the real deal, a play once described by Ben Brantley in the <a href="http://theater2.nytimes.com/mem/theater/treview.html?res=9907EFDF123DF93BA15753C1A9629C8B63" target="_blank">New York Times </a> as "charged with the raging verbal energy of someone trying to make sense of a situation long beyond the reach of rational thought".<br />
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I think this will be very tough viewing, but if well done, also very valuable, and I'm impressed that CTYC is taking it on. If anyone reading this does get along, let me know what you thought.<br />
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<br />Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-9437110681151639832012-11-09T13:11:00.000+11:002012-11-22T15:04:18.566+11:00Street Two: Diva Sheila, the Eco-Diva<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Kate Hosking is a very talented woman. Fabulous voice, great chops on a double bass, and gorgeous to boot. But this show just doesn't work.</span><br />
There are three separate elements at work here, and they don't marry up. First is Hosking's "Diva Sheila" persona. Second is the script, and third are the songs interspersed throughout, in which Hosking accompanies herself (beautifully) on double bass.<br />
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The Diva persona is a puzzle. It seems to be intended as a kind of larger-than-life drag-type character who will allow Hosking to get away with some outrageousness, but there really isn't any material in the script that needs or benefits from that. And while Hosking looks ravishing in a slinky black evening dress with a dominatrix spiked leather collar and matching sky-high <a href="http://www.google.com.au/search?q=spiked+louboutin&hl=en&client=safari&tbo=d&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=PIatUIXEL8XGmQXc6ICYDg&ved=0CAkQ_AUoAQ&biw=768&bih=928#biv=i|0;d|TWJwo-oLk7tFcM:" target="_blank">Louboutins</a>, none of that matches the "Eco" image she was trying to create - actually the "Eco" thing was never adequately explained and ultimately went nowhere in particular. Hosking would have done much better to discard "Sheila" and just been an exaggerated version of herself.<br />
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Another reason for that is that the stories she tells - varied and interesting, about her experiences as a folk musician in Europe - are clearly her own. They're not exaggerated, or hammed up for comic effect. They're perfectly worthwhile stories, and disowning them as the Diva's oddly detracts from their persuasiveness.<br />
<br />
Finally, there are the songs, which as I've already said, are beautifully sung and performed. Hosking is magic on the bass and sings with a rich bluesy voice that reminded me a little, at times, of Michelle Shocked. But the choice of songs was another disconnect. The segues from anecdotes seemed slight and and forced, and several songs involved the adoption of additional personae (<i>I Was Only Nineteen </i>belongs to an older man; <i>Strange Fruit</i> is a black woman's song, and I'm uncomfortable with its appropriation, though obviously very well-intentioned). The songs seemed to be chosen for a sort of social justice edge, which might have gone with the purpose of the Diva, but wasn't often reflected in the stories leading into them. <br />
<br />
I found Kate Hosking very likeable, and impressive, and I really wanted to like this show. And this certainly wasn't the worst hour I've spent in a theatre. There's a lot to enjoy here, but it just doesn't all go together. If Hosking ditches the "Diva" and matches her songs to her stories, I'd go see her again in a heartbeat.<br />
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<br />Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-77705249257608234422012-11-07T08:00:00.000+11:002012-11-22T23:49:50.537+11:00The Street: Bare Witness (fortyfivedownstairs)Mari Lourey's script about war correspondent Dani Hayes is transcended by its execution at the hands of a talented cast, innovative director Nadja Kostich, and the lighting design by Emma Valente. <br />
<br />
I wasn't that crazy about the script, taken alone. The story of a photojournalist learning her craft in assorted war-torn hells on earth isn't all that new (think of the various incarnations of the Daniel Pearl story), and at times is even a little patronising (<i>vide</i> a somewhat self-righteous claim that no one in Australia knows or cares about the Balibo Five). However it does bring a finely-crafted consciousness of the moral issues of whether it's OK to grow rich and famous from other people's tragedy, especially given that those people desperately need to have their tragedy known. Is it OK, we're asked explicitly, to re-pose a corpse for a photo shoot: is that fakery, or a way to get the truth across more urgently? The answer remains ambiguous -well, of course it does.<br />
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The play told in a stylised and precisely choreographed fashion, anchored by a remarkable physical performance by Daniela Farinaci as Dani. The story is told in vignettes framed by photographs Dani has taken, projected on the wall; other video is also used, notably of running wolves. The whole cast is versatile, everyone but Farinaci playing multiple roles at breakneck speed, and completely committed, physically and emotionally. <br />
<br />
This is a powerful production with a lot to say, and even if not all of it is new, it is impressive in the telling.Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-50552961928494824982012-11-03T16:41:00.000+11:002012-11-22T18:19:16.364+11:00Playhouse: Batman Follies of 1929What an irresistible concept this seemed when I first saw the posters and grabbed my tickets. Imagine Batman and his associates doing vaudeville / cabaret / burlesque in 1929: who wouldn't want to see that? Alas, the rhetoric-reality gap strikes again.<br />
<br />
Master of Ceremonies was a bloke in spectacles and a suit who called himself Alfred Penniworth, Wayne family retainer, and who read most of his bad jokes in an Australian accent from a bound script (with a bat sign on it, of course). This show has been playing at Sydney's Vanguard for months; there's really no excuse for not knowing the lines (or the limited set list) by now - but really, for a show of this sort a bit of ad-libbing's the least we ought to be able to expect.<br />
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There's some very ordinary burlesque from "Catwoman" and "Poison Ivy" (who really just stands on stage in a caftan and writhes a bit) - "Batgirl" improves on this with some genuine contortionist work; impressive, if that's your thing, and certainly in line for the era. A pretty unfunny (and anachronistic) set of stand-up from "The Scarecrow" can only be holding its place in view of an even unfunnier (in fact, quite nasty) performance from "the Joker", which seemed to draw more from the "Saw" franchise than the Batman one. There's some reasonably entertaining old-fashioned magic from the same bloke in different costumes ("The Riddler" and "Two Face"); some acceptable singing from "Harley Quin", and some really good singing from "Mr Freeze" and a lady "Penguin" - who was frankly wasted on just one number and should have been brought back for the finale (which used a recording instead). The closer was a rather Cro-Magnon-looking tap-dancing Batman, but the highlight for me was the introduction of Robin, a tiny tiny child who performed some very 1929 feats of acrobatics to deafeat a classic henchman-type.<br />
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The two best things about Batman Follies are, first, the incredibly detailed and beautiful costumes, and second, the Gotham City big band, a really top-notch ensemble that provided live music for almost all of the acts. I would happily have paid my ticket price just to watch and listen to these guys.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"> In fact, I probably would have preferred it. <i>Batman Follies of 1929 </i>is a great idea - now it just needs to invest in acts that live up to it.</span>Canberra Dilettantehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11787748592216353291noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-19564581891988259872012-10-31T00:44:00.001+11:002012-11-01T01:08:24.239+11:00Free Rain: To Kill A MockingbirdThere was doubtless some sort of irony in finding myself for this show seated next to, apparently, <a href="http://www.kathandkim.com/grayshsh.htm" target="_blank">Prue & Trude </a>, bitching over their chardies about the temerity of the "usherette" asking them to move up a seat to make room for other paying customers at this sold-out performance. Though Christopher Stergel's adaptation of Harper Lee's legendary novel <i>To Kill A Mockingbird </i>is not the best page-to-stage translation around, the power of the story undeniably remains, and so does the petty snobbery of some middle-class townsfolk in this production directed by Liz Bradley.<br />
<br />
Cate Clelland's design of lattices and trellises works very well to give the impression of a whole small town, but the decision to have almost all of the large cast on the tiny Courtyard stage for much of the time makes things messy and crowded, and while this serves to build a sense of claustrophobia, a place where everyone's all up in everyone else's business, it is also at times hard to follow. Similarly, having the courtroom spectators in Act 2 chatter audibly through procedings might have been realistic, but was also incredibly distracting and deeply irritating (I kept wanting to ask Trude & Prue to shut the hell up, but it wasn't them).<br />
<br />
Michael Sparks has done an excellent job as accent coach. Steph Roberts, in an anchor performance as Miss Maudie, gets to recycle her already sound Southern accent from <i>Streetcar</i> a few years ago. Colin Boldra, while not the most charismatic Atticus Finch ever, is solid, and all three children (Maddison Smith-Catlin as Scout, Martin Hoggart as Jem, and Ben Burgess as Dil) are remarkably good, at least once Smith-Catlin finds her pitch. It's a relief, too, that Bradley has found some genuine talent for the black roles, and Joyce Waweru (a lovely Calpurnia), David Kinyua (Tom Robinson) and Ewem Etuknwa (the Reverend) are all welcome additions to the Canberra theatre scene. The whole cast does well, but I was especially impressed by Tony Falla, who gets his Jud Fry on as redneck supreme Bob Ewall, and by Megan Johns, an actor new to me, who is absolutely outstanding in the role of his daughter Mayella.<br />
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To put that in better context: I have never been one of the legions who number <i>To Kill A Mockingbird </i>among the greatest novels of all time, or even among their personal favourites. For me, the powerful messages against racial prejudice are too badly tainted by the fact they are rooted in another dangerous prejudice: that women lie about rape (and that a poor white trash woman is more likely to lie than her middle-class "betters"). <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">Watching Johns' brilliant performance through this lens was almost unbearable. Conventional wisdom - though this is never actually established in either book or play - is that Tom Robinson is a victim of racial prejudice, innocent of raping and beating Mayella. But Johns is completely convincing as a rape victim on the witness stand, and watching her harangued and patronised by a courtroom full of men (Boldra's Finch, Peter Holland as the prosecutor and Brian Daly as the Judge) is deeply uncomfortable viewing. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">Finch's contention is that shy, poor, downtrodden 19 year old Mayella has been plotting and saving all her money <b>for a full year,</b> in order to bribe her siblings to go out for ice-cream, solely to create an opportunity to seduce an unwilling Tom Robinson. (This </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">is never supported by testimony, incidentally - Finch could call evidence to prove the ice-cream story, if it were true, but never does.) </span><span class="Apple-style-span">Does that hypothesis sound likely to <b>anyone<i>? </i></b> Mayella's father catches them, and it's suggested that he beats her as a result. There is good evidence for this bit of the claim - but it's a red herring. Even if it was her father who beat her, not Robinson, that's no evidence that Robinson did not rape Mayella. Bob Ewall would not be the first father to blame his daughter for being raped, or to beat her for it, either. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span">I wish Harper Lee had written this story about a black man wrongly accused of killing a white man, or robbing a bank, so I could invest unequivocally in her moral position. But to ask me to believe a </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">diffident, brow-beaten, and almost certainly abused teenaged girl would scheme and scrimp for a year and spend every cent she could scrape together just to have the opportunity to coerce a reluctant older man into having sex with her has never sat easily with me. Neither does the way she is treated in court, by men later lauded for their great and nuanced moral sensibility. Watch Megan Johns' performance, just for a few minutes, without the conventional assumption of Robinson's innocence, and let me know if it doesn't make you uncomfortable too.</span><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-15402282371955767392012-10-29T18:35:00.000+11:002012-11-22T18:17:13.498+11:00NT Live: The Last of the HaussmansWhat a gem of a thing this is!<br />
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I've raved on before about NT Live, so won't bore you again with that palaver, but I will reiterate: the UK National Theatre is the best of the best, and in choosing which of its productions will be broadcast via NT Live, it doesn't have to settle for anything less than the best of the best of the best. Whatever you see through this programme, therefore, you can be sure it's an absolute corker.<br />
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So it is with <em>The Last of the Haussmans</em>, a remarkably assured and "finished" first play from Stephen Beresford, with probably the most universally outstanding performances from an entire cast that it's ever been my privilege to witness. <br />
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There's not a thing here that's not to rave about. The set consists of a wondeful, if slightly worse for wear, art-deco beach house which was so real I felt physical longing for it. I've spent the last few days trawling through real estate websites looking for something similar and wondering what I'd have to do to afford it. (Maybe in Detroit?)<br />
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Julie Walters plays Judy Haussman, who abandoned her offspring to her own vicious parents in her flowerchild youth, and has now considerately returned to them - tightly-wound, disastrous-in-love Libby (Helen McCrory), and histrionic, ruined junkie Nick (Rory Kinnear) - so they can nurse her through her final days with cancer, in the hope of inheriting the wonderful house. Which would clearly be the only thing she's ever done for them. On the way, Judy has accumulated a somewhat dodgy GP, Peter (Matthew Marsh), who covets both Libby and the house, and who sucks up to the adoring Judy with pot-fuelled Bob Dylan marathons and OTT flirtation, and a gorgeous but cripplingly shy neighbour boy Daniel (Taron Egerton). The menage is completed by Isabella Laughland as Libby's 15-year-old daughter Summer, her every breath seething with adolescent fury and contempt.<br />
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Judy is an appalling old narcissist, whose breathtaking selfishness has wrecked the children whose ingratitude she now rails against. It's a fascinating study of how a Sixties' "Me Generation" culture has been in many ways as harmful when directed toward hippy-dippy voyages of self-discovery as towards the sort of Randian social Darwinism of Thatcher (or modern hard-right US Republicans).<br />
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If that sounds bleak, it isn't. The play is funny, witty (Kinnear has some wonderful lines) and ultimately uplifting. And very, very worthwhile viewing.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-787089347055764542012-10-25T23:12:00.000+11:002012-10-26T00:24:01.356+11:00The Wharf Revue- Around the Rings of SatireDO. NOT. MISS. THIS!!<br />
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Every Wharf Revue is brilliant. The only distinction that can be made in respect of the level of genius from year to year is in how long it takes me to turn to my companion and say that I already want to come back and see it again. Last year it was only about ten minutes in, as the voices of Julia Gillard and a masked Kevin Rudd soared through an Andrew Lloyd Webber pastiche ("Rudd Never Dies"!). This year it was only a few minutes longer, when Josh Quong Tart (replacing auteur and regular Jonathan Biggins in the cast) tore off his Lord Vader Helmet to reveal an uncannily convincing impersonation of Tony Abbott singing "I Will Survive".<br />
<br />
Honestly, this show is funny and clever on so many levels it warrants several viewings just to be sure you've got it all. Last year we were lucky: the ABC broadcast a recording of <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/iview/?series=3391546#/series/3391546" target="_blank">Debt-Defying Acts</a> (ooh, still available on iView?!) a couple of times around Christmas, and I deeply hope they'll do the same for this one. There is a quite staggering sketch written by Drew Forsythe and performed by Josh Quong Tart, which is Alan Joyce addressing Qantas shareholders as James Joyce - the sheer cleverness of it was, I swear, physically exhilerating. And I could probably see that sketch three more times without fully grasping everything that was in it.<br />
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Another joy of the Wharf Revue is the musical direction by the marvellous Philip Scott - there's some recorded music, but most is played by Scott himself on the keyboard (here disguised as a the console of a spaceship). There's huge fun to be had picking out the sources of the musical numbers - though the extended sequences from <i>Guys & Dolls</i> (concerning James Packer's deal with the NSW government for a casino at Barangaroo) and <i>Mary Poppins</i> were a doddle. In the latter, Julia Gillard (played again by the extraordinary, and serendipitously named, Amanda Bishop) and Bill Shorten (Tart again) look for ways to get traction with the punters; it's funny because it's trooooooooo!!<br />
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A harder sell was a sketch set in a gun shop - call it an <strong>un</strong>spoiler alert, but if you don't recognise this as a parody of the Monty Python "Cheese Shop" sketch right at the start, you're not going to find it nearly as funny as it should be. And because the show launched six weeks ago and has been touring regional NSW, it's missed some opportunities offered by recent parliamentary shenanigans; though Drew Forsythe has shoehorned in a very funny (and slightly breathtaking) race call of the Golden (Peter) Slipper Stakes.<br />
<br />
With Jonathan Biggins' <a href="http://canberradilettante.blogspot.com.au/2012/09/mtcstc-australia-day.html" target="_blank">Australia Day</a> commitments limiting his Wharf Revue involvement to a video of Paul Keating's head in a jar, his usual collaborators Scott and Forsythe have done him proud with the addition of Josh Quong Tart, who like returning guest Amanda Bishop, sings beautifully, dances fabulously, and can impersonate pretty much anyone. Bishop didn't get as much star material as last year, but does get to show off a bravura soprano in "The Gay Marriage of Figaro".<br />
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There are still performances left on Friday and Saturday night plus a Saturday matinee. So you have three more chances to see it. Or, as I prefer to think of it, a chance to see it three more times. Do it! Laugh til you cry! Thank me later!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-29592307788993617422012-10-24T23:09:00.000+11:002012-10-25T16:41:01.328+11:00NUTS: HarveyA student production for $15 a head? I wasn't expecting much, but <i>Harvey </i>has long been a favourite film of mine, and I'd crawl over broken glass for a ticket to the new Broadway version starring Jim Parsons. So I figured this NUTS production at the ANU Drama Lab would be worth a shot. I have to say, I was very pleasantly surprised. Subject to the usual caveats - in particular, that nearly every actor is having to play much older than their tender undergraduate years - this was pretty good.<br />
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The script, really, is far too long (the first Act alone is around 90 minutes), but there's not much that drags. For those who are unfamiliar with the story, it concerns one Elwood P Dowd, a rich, eccentric and sunny-natured bachelor who claims as his best friend a six-foot invisible rabbit named Harvey. His embarrassed family seeks to have him committed. But who is really crazy here?<br />
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Watching this I wished I were a talent scout; if I were I'd have been lurking at the stage door with business cards for some seriously promising young thesps. First call would be Jessica Symonds, who played Nurse Kelly: one of the best performances I've seen this year. She's gorgeous in a really interesting way, and her acting was incredibly natural and unaffected. Loved her. Also great as character actors were Tom Westland as Elwood P Dowd, pitched very endearingly somewhere between John Alderton and Chris Lilley; and Dylan Van Den Berg, (Dr Chumley) who played middle-aged and venal with alarming verisimilitude, and who either is actually American, or has nailed the accent better than almost anyone in town. These three were absolute stand-outs, but in a town a bit short of leading men I'd also be signing up Will Morris, a very competent and appealing Dr Sanderson.<br />
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Robin Whitby's costumes were excellent; the programme doesn't name a set designer (Willy Weijers gets the construction credit) but again, it was first-rate, with props used to add considerable detail, and wonderfully choreographed set changes. And if I were a talent scout, or with one of the local theatre companies, I would be getting Shaun Wykes's phone number pronto. His direction shows a lot of potential; timing was impeccable, blocking was exemplary, and it was evident that some less experienced performers had been very capably coached. Everyone coped very well with the faint reverberations of <i>War of the Worlds</i> filtering through from next door (in what I'm tempted to call <i>War of the Dowds, </i>but can't as my impression is that each production made genuine efforts to accommodate the other).<br />
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I was also impressed with a nuance I didn't remember finding in the movie (though admittedly it's been a while) - is Harvey a force for good or ill? Elwood is a cheerful, generous soul, but hints filter through that his life has changed since Harvey, and in ways not for the better. There are a couple of genuine <i>frissons</i> in the second Act, and I left with a new perspective that perhaps Elwood's big fluffy friend might be more sinister than I once thought.<br />
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I haven't seen much of NUTS's work before, but if this is typical of the current standard, I will certainly be back. And a few local companies should get themselves down here and scope out some next-gen talent.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-20002250150440786142012-10-20T09:00:00.000+11:002012-10-23T10:12:04.009+11:00Supa Productions: War of the WorldsWow.<br />
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If you're a regular theatre-goer, then throw away everything you thought you knew about musicals and come to see this with a fresh eye and a willingness to immerse yourself in a multimedia experience which is more of a rock concert than a stage show. And if you're not a regular theatre-goer, then this is the show that could make you one.<br />
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This is an ambitious project for Ron Dowd and his collaborators (not to mention Supa Productions) - not only because of the scope and novelty of the undertaking, but because the one line I heard in the foyer more often than any other was "I grew up with this record!" I don't think I'm aware of a single other production in recent years which has carried a greater weight of expectations - especially since Supa has done a rare and valuable thing here, which is to bring to the theatre an audience that does not necessarily consider itself as interested in theatre.<br />
<br />
Almost the whole of the stage is<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"> taken up by a massive orchestra of 20 string players and a rock band that seemed nearly as big (with no fewer than four keyboards). Above them is a long wide strip of screen showing CGI footage. There's only a narrow strip of stage left at the front for the singers, which reflects the "concert" nature of the show, but given that in this version the singers are also actors, it's possibly not really enough room; at one point they noticeably had to dodge the conductor. The narrator (the "old" Journalist) Joseph McGrail-Bateup, in a significant departure from his usual comic turns (the second for the year, after <i>Titanic)</i>, sits at a desk to the side as he describes, with chilling gravity, the inexorable overthrow of Earth.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">The graphics, though clearly a bit dated in style, are gripping, and the care that has been taken by James MacPherson to sequence them with the sound is evident; there's also an impressive lighting design by Chris Neal, including a searchlight that rakes the audience as the on-screen Martians do, and fire effects behind the stage. Sharon Tree manages her orchestra very effectively, though there's not really much opportunity for dynamics; she did not appear to directing the rock band much, but it was fantastic, so whatever call she made there paid off handsomely.</span><br />
<br />
The singers are all very good (though Steve Herzog, not usually a theatre perfomer, does struggle a little as the Voice of Humanity). Roy Hukari's attractive voice works well in a role (the "young" Journalist) that suits his naturally serious style. Sarah Golding and Simon Stone continue a year of strong performances as the mad parson and his desperate wife, but it is Max Gambale as the Artilleryman who is outstanding in an impassioned performance of power, conviction and amazing vocal range. The back-up singers were also good, though one of them smiled widely throughout, which was a bit distracting considering the characters on screen were having their blood sucked dry by Martians while the Earth succumbed to a plague of red weed.<br />
<br />
This is a genuinely exciting, immersive and high-quality production that was well worth leaving my comfort zone to see. And those friends of mine who went because they loved the album have come away truly thrilled, which is a much bigger recommendation than anything I can offer. <br />
<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-14213098698832854582012-10-19T23:00:00.000+11:002012-10-25T16:57:07.172+11:00Canberra Theatre: Tim Ferguson - Carry A Big StickOh, I miss <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Big_Gig" target="_blank">The Big Gig.</a> And The Late Show. And <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Money_or_the_Gun" target="_blank">The Money or the Gun.</a> And <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fast_Forward_(TV_series)" target="_blank">Fast Forward </a>/Full Frontal/ Big Girl's Blouse. Or possibly I just miss being 20 years younger ... Whatever the reason, I wasn't going to miss Tim Ferguson's one-man show <i>Carry A Big Stick </i>at the Playhouse on Friday night - and I can only be grateful that he didn't adhere to the rest of Teddy Roosevelt's injunction.<br />
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There have always been rumours around the break up of the Doug Anthony Allstars, most of them hinting, albeit sadly, that "Tim was behind it". There has been bewilderment and disappointment that he'd have lent himself to the crass commercialism of <em>Don't Forget Your Toothbrush</em> and <em>Unreal TV</em>, and then, most recently, there has been concern, and curiosity, as he was seen in public more often than not with a cane. Tim Ferguson "outed" himself a few years ago as having MS, and this is his story.<br />
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Ferguson has been doing this show for a little while now, but occupied that happy space in which he is both completely familiar with his material, and it's still new enough to be fresh. He quickly built up a strong rapport with the audience. Something that jarred quite a lot, however, was his constant (albeit fond) jibes at his fellow All-Stars by calling them "girls" (plus a transphobic reference here and there to their "operations"). The politically incorrect humour of DAAS always had an iconoclastic edge; but this was just weirdly reactionary and unfunny.<br />
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That aside, Ferguson was immensely likeable, his story was more interesting than perhaps I had expected, and I laughed a great deal too. It was nice to hear his reasons for leaving DAAS, and there is clearly still considerable affection between him, Paul McDermott and Richard Fidler ("a tough name to have in high school"). It was also good to hear his own take on the abomination that was <em>Don't Forget Your Toothbrush</em> and his reasons for accepting the job - his description of the state of his health during the Logies appearance that led to it was compelling (and the exhange that followed with Elliott Goblet, priceless). And it confirmed everything I've ever thought about how Channel 9 does business.<br />
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Verdict: money well spent, especially for anyone nostalgic for the great days of Champagne Comedy. Or even <em>Funky Squad</em>.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-8167379152180142892012-10-17T00:30:00.001+11:002012-10-17T14:32:10.385+11:00Street Two: Our Shadows Pass Only OnceWell... This is bleak.<br />
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The script, by Canberra writer David Temme, is well crafted, poetic and powerful. Two couples are involved in fraught relationships; the younger couple's new and volatile (marked by violence); the older couple's exhausted and anxious (marked by mental illness).<br />
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Gillian Schwab's design is highly effective: a black floor between two raised rostra is littered with index cards, each with a word or two on them; the actors select one to hang on the wall to mark each of 15 vignettes. Each card is projected onto the back wall for a few seconds, occasionally so are angles and close-ups of the actors.<br />
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Music, by Shoeb Ahmad, is subtle and precisely complementary.<br />
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Andrew Holmes' direction is finely-honed, bringing the most out of each phrase and movement.<br />
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The performances are excellent: Caroline Simone O'Brien is luminous; Raoul Craemer more emotional than I've ever seen him; Sarah Nathan-Truesdale fresh and raw; Josh Wiseman shows a depth previous roles have not offered him.<br />
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But geeze, it's grim.<br />
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By all means see this; there is much to admire in the performances, language and production values. But if anything in it reminds you of your current relationship - get out now.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-22362491691383465722012-10-16T18:07:00.000+11:002012-10-21T16:34:28.254+11:00The Street: Katie Noonan & Karin Schaupp "Songs of the Southern Skies"What a beautiful concert this was. Karin Schaupp played beautiful classical guitar. Katie Noonan sang beautiful arrangements in that incredibly beautiful voice. They both wore beautiful frocks, had beautiful cascading hair, and the stage was beautifully decorated in beautiful roses.<br />
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I'm not being sarcastic - it truly was beautiful. But I also found it a bit too crafted, and as it went on, felt that I could have used a bit of an edge. Full disclaimer: talking to other audience members, I'm pretty sure I am completely on my own here. Dilettante's privilege. <br />
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Noonan's is a voice to wonder at - the <a href="http://canberradilettante.blogspot.com.au/2012/10/canberra-theatre-sasha-regans-pirates.html" target="_blank">second</a> great coloratura of the week. Absolutely flawless, controlled and truly lovely. These gentle, pure and pretty arrangements of Antipodean songs were perfectly chosen - my one regret in that regard is that I'd have loved to hear her sing Tim Finn's <em>I Hope I Never</em>, which was nevertheless gorgeous rendered by Schaupp's equally virtuosic solo guitar (one of several heavenly arrangements by Richard Charlton). <br />
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The relentless beauty continued through pieces by Bic Runga, Nick Cave, Gurrumul, Vince Jones, Gotye and even Cold Chisel, plus one of Noonan's own works and newly commissioned pieces by Andrew Georg and Elena Kats-Chernin. It's clear from the way that Noonan speaks about her material that she is genuinely passionate about the songs she and Schaupp have selected, but at times they were <em>so </em>perfect that I found myself standing outside the music, marvelling at the craft, rather than being drawn in. This is in no way a criticism of wonderful performances and extraordinary talent, it really isn't. It's more like being served plate after plate of gorgeous cakes when you tend to have a savoury palate.<br />
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Noonan's between-song patter was spontaneous and totally charming, engaging the audience with candour, warmth and humour. She's very easy to love.<br />
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And I did love the final number (not counting the encore of course - for which I stamped and whistled as hard as anyone else) - the Easybeats' <em>Friday on My Mind.</em> Noonan finally cut loose, which was glorious, and the rest of us got to go "La la la la la la la la LA" at the top of our voices. Any evening where I get to go "La la la la la la la la LA" at the top of my voice is a good one for me. And judging from the crush of fans waiting for signed CD's (I understand they sold out), "too beautiful" is hardly something to be avoided.<br />
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PS (added 20 Oct): it's been pointed out to me that I totally failed to mention the choir of small boys who joined Noonan & Schaupp for the last song of the first bracket. They were, indeed, very sweet.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-55210745287552415402012-10-14T23:35:00.000+11:002012-10-16T16:49:37.714+11:00Restaurant: Hako (Melbourne)Nom, nom, nom.<br />
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Have I mentioned I love Japanese food? So I was pretty pleased to find this gem across the street from my Flinders Lane hotel, a mere block from the Tuxedo Cat. It's a spacious room with a dark wood fit-out lifted by a high ceiling and plenty of windows, a long bar with some interesting bottles behind it, and just enough light over each table for a lone diner with a Kindle.<br />
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Outstanding service (beware the subtle upsell, but it's so charming you feel grateful), and lovely food. The specialty of the house, a mouthful of blue swimmer crab meat topped with tobiko and a squeeze of lemon and wrapped in a shiso leaf, is so unbelievably good that I ordered a second. It still left me enough room for a single beautiful scallop poached in a perfect savoury custard, but not quite enough to finish a tapas-sized serving of meltingly sticky slow-cooked beef ribs in a sauce of sweet soy, dashi and peppercorns. Everything is delicious. Highly recommended.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-64537057491712079532012-10-14T22:45:00.000+11:002012-10-16T17:07:26.198+11:00Melbourne Fringe: The Trial & Death of Socrates (No Relation) - Joel Tito... And back to the Tuxedo Cat it was for a piece I really did want to see: Joel Tito's <i>The Trial and Death of Socrates (No Relation). </i>As an impatient queue formed in the corridor outside the former office space, Tito suddenly burst out into the corridor in full Japanese regalia, shooing us into the performance space and then delivering a diatribe in Japanese that went on for some time. Of course, it was the old joke about the wrong warm-up act being booked (alas, there's nothing much more to be wrung from this gag since the brilliant Martin-Molloy series of botched musical finales on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Late_Show_(Australian_TV_series)#Musical_finale" target="_blank">The Late Show</a><i> </i>in the early 90's). This got good, though, when our <i>sanmaime</i> had the bright idea of plugging his observations into Google Translate and allowing his tablet to read the English version back to the audience.<br />
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Anyway, this was over soon enough, and the imaginary curtain rose on Socrates, a shut-in loser, whose faults are enumerated by an invisible voiceover which insists, in respect of each, that "for this, he must die". Along the way there is a good deal of absurdist adventure - Tito is convincingly pathetic and lonely (so desperate for affection that he orders pizza in the hope he can persuade the delivery guy to give him a hug) - and some audience participation, especially in a lengthy sketch where Socrates is welcomed to a new church by an evangelist minister feuding with his sound guy. And there's a highly amusing auction sequence culminating in the attempted sale of an entirely plagiarised manuscript (inspired by the strange tale of <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/02/13/120213fa_fact_widdicombe?currentPage=all" target="_blank">Quentin Rowan</a>, perhaps?) <br />
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The premise is slight, and the "twist" ending somewhat telegraphed, but it's still pretty funny stuff. Tito works his audience hard, but rewards us with a lot of laughs as well. Worth catching, if it returns at a comedy festival near you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-24590499801984063342012-10-13T22:09:00.000+11:002012-10-16T16:47:28.179+11:00Melbourne Fringe: Trying Hard (Alasdair Tremblay-Birchall)The beauty and the terror of Fringe Festivals everywhere is the sheer volume and variety of what's on offer. I've often thought it would be great to take a week off (with the weekend on either side) and just go and gorge myself at the Melbourne Fringe, but four shows a day for nine days is still only 36 shows, which is only about one-tenth of the programme. So choosing what to see is either vitally important or virtually irrelevant - I went the latter route and aimed for (a) what fit around my work schedule and (b) was near my hotel.<br />
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And thus I squeaked in to the Tuxedo Cat just in time for Alasdair Tremblay-Birchall's one-man show <i>Trying Hard</i>. A room in a barely-converted office space was nearly full with a very friendly crowd when Tremblay-Birchall hopped on to the stage in a giant amoeba costume. Yes, the first part of the show was about evolution - and the continuing layers of costume, one beneath another, were crude but clever (and the retro-style sign his friend made him was very professional). Tremblay-Birchall's material here was not entirely comfortable, it seemed to me: the theme was how each character badly wanted to become something else, became that thing, and regretted it (despite still loving that thing); the awkward but unavoidable subtext appeared to be that he regrets leaving engineering for comedy. An easy thing to understand for anyone who's tried to make a living from their <a href="http://www.oneletterwords.com/bliss/" target="_blank">bliss</a> only to find commerce sucks the joy out of it.<br />
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His second half was more conventional stand-up, and funnier, though he fell back on some very well-used tropes (yes, male genitalia is HILARIOUS!). He clearly had a lot of supporters in the room, but he got some genuine laughter from me too. If I happened to be passing his next gig I might well stick my head in, but I probably won't prioritise it at my next Fringe foray - there's just too much else to choose from!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-1020987291535350182012-10-12T00:33:00.000+11:002012-10-17T14:42:15.987+11:00At the Q: Ladies Night (Jally Productions)Ooh, this is a hard one - no pun intended.<br />
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And that was pretty much the standard for the evening. <i>Ladies Night </i>is famously the Kiwi play it's claimed was ripped off by <i>The Full Monty</i>, about a group of unemployed guys who decide they can make some quick cash by putting on a charity-case strip show (hey, it's not as if the ladies are very discriminating - after all, look who they've married, amirite, girls?). Though the authors lost their case on a technicality (they sued in the wrong jurisdiction), on watching this it was hard to drum up much sympathy for them. The play lacks the heart, character development and emotional resonance of <i>Monty -</i> we don't know why these guys are broke, we know next to nothing about their relationships, and personal growth seems to consist of one guy getting unexpectedly laid (and skiting like a lout about it) and another suddenly turning up in a frock. We're given no reason to like these guys or care about their futures: it's an unsatisfying text.<br />
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There's still fun to be had, largely from watching the lads make total fools of themselves, but this incarnation of the play<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"> by Jally Productions has a curiously amateur feel about it; while featuring a few notable veterans like Alli Pope and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Ken James, it also features a bunch of slightly miscast hopefuls whose CVs seem to consist of no-brand local pantomimes. That's not to say they're bad (they're not), but they're clearly not professional, and they don't quite match their characters. And direction is also a little off, with some lengthy set changes and a few other odd decisions, such as giving a Sunshine Coast local radio host a smarmy American accent. Not that most of the audience cared much, especially when the lads got their gear off (yes, all of it).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Me - I was disappointed. Though possibly not as disappointed as the sweet young thing in ridiculously optimistic shoes who struck up a conversation with me at interval, confiding with shining eyes that she was meeting up with a member of the touring crew after the show. As I went in for the second act, I saw the gentleman in question leaning back with his feet up on the chairback in front, chatting up a blonde. <i>La plus ca change...</i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025186267829758002.post-45041149439634308322012-10-11T23:23:00.000+11:002012-10-15T22:11:24.448+11:00Canberra Theatre: Sasha Regan's Pirates of PenzanceIt's a bit unfashionable to like Gilbert & Sullivan. Long out of copyright, familiar, tuneful and funny, the Savoy Operas are a mainstay of every amateur company from your local primary school to the retirement village down the road. And, as the glorious Anna Russell observes, at <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yif-5xBbxd4&feature=youtube_gdata_player" target="_blank">any given time, in any given place, someone is putting one on.</a><br />
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But, I frankly confess it, I adore Gilbert & Sullivan, know great swathes of the dialogue by heart, and lulled myself to sleep through many an adolescent trauma to an ancient cassette tape of the collected Overtures. They're so familiar that it's easy to forget how witty and pretty the words and music are, and to wonder if there's anything that could really make a chestnut like <i>Pirates</i> fresh again.<br />
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Well, <i>brava! </i>Sasha Regan - because she's done it, and in spades, in this quite irresistible all-male production.<br />
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Given recent events in gender politics, I wasn't sure a drag show was going to be quite the thing, and when a sole piano player (MD Michael England) started to push out some spare-sounding drawing-room chords in a venue more accustomed to orchestras, my doubts deepened. But I was converted almost immediately: it was the perfect accompaniment to the unamplified voices of a crew of handsome young pirates, in costumes reminiscent of a gym class at an Edwardian boys' public school.<br />
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The resemblance was only emphasized when they re-emerged in white skirts and a few corsets, as the Major-General's daughters. This isn't drag, it's not even camp; it's just young men, not really pretending to be women, without wigs or makeup, playing the roles as they might at an all-boys school. It's wholly delightful, and some of the voices, in particular Alan Richardson as the coloratura Mabel, were nothing short of amazing. Other performances of note were Joseph Houston as Ruth (uncannily like David Marr when made up as middle-aged; the image of the young Rupert Everett when not), Adam Vaughan as the Sergeant, the dashing Nic Gibney as the Pirate King. Stewart Charlesworth, in Velma haircut and specs, was utterly convincing as Edith, the willowy Dale Page was quite mesmerising as Kate; and Matthew Gent, with his handsome face and gorgeous tenor, was a perfect Frederic.<br />
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This is a very funny, fresh and endearing production, and the Canberra audience very clearly could not have loved it more. It's touring <a href="http://www.piratesisback.com/australia.html" target="_blank">all over the place</a> - in fact, some quite unexpected places - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">and if you can possibly get yourself to one of them, I urge you to do so. Years from now you'll still find yourself smiling when you think of it.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0