A Major Event: Rod Quantock, July 28 1999

The Final Report from the Comedian General on the state of the State Written and performed by Rod Quantock at Trades Hall until September 4, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

The words "politics" and "absurd" should be incompatible but Rod Quantock provides plenty of evidence to the contrary. To our left-leaning Comedian General, the phrase "democratic Victoria" is an oxymoron. In fact, the state  he believes the state is filled with several brands of ordinary morons.

Can it be true that this is Rod's Final Report on the State of the State? After years of acerbic political satire, Quantock says he is hanging up his chalk and blackboard and handing in his anti-Kennett placard. I don't believe him. I don't want to believe that, just because everything has been sold off in Victoria, he has no more to say.

The title, A Major Event, should at least get him a government grant. No. Not possible evidently because he is a vigorous government critic. His popularity, then, should place the event on the state's calendar. No. He doesn't drive ridiculously fast cars or cut down trees or design huge pointy buildings nor knock over heritage terraces.

He doesn't own newspapers or casinos or banks. He is not part of the 60% who approve of Jeff. He doesn't have Alan Stockdale's eyebrows or John Laws voice or Packer's money.

Do you get my drift? Quantock is one in a million - 18 million actually. His is a finely honed mind and he has created another intelligent, informed, charming yet worrying show. It is also screamingly funny..

The old chalkboard makes its final appearance in the appallingly designed Council Chambers at the Trades Hall. Quantock scrawls his creative equations, eccentric diagrams and mad theories all over the board until everything is overwritten and interwoven. Power, money, privatisation, E-Tag and poker machines all blur into one great catastrophe that is Victorian politics: tragic and somehow hilarious.

He says there is nothing more to be done. Marches do not work. Victorians could not even muster the energy to publicly protest over the elimination of tram conductors much less that of trams, hospitals or schools. 

He finishes this, his "last" show, (think of Melba's farewell gigs) with a call for solutions to the problem from the audience.  Even if you voted for Jeff, you might have to laugh. If not, we are truly doomed to a laugh-free zone into the next millennium.

By Kate Herbert

Stolen by Jane Harrison, July 25 1999

Stolen by Jane Harrison

 at Beckett Theatre Malthouse, July 24 until August, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

This second season of Stolen, by Jane Harrison is, theatrically, a smoother ride but is still a emotional roller coaster. The stories of five aboriginal children who were stolen from their families are so achingly sad that they are difficult to watch.

This is not to suggest that the play is all trauma and darkness. It is a romp in parts, with some sweet and funny moments. We watch children at play, being naughty, missing mum, keeping secrets, hoping for home. We hear myths about the creation of the white man who stole babies and the evolution of the red desert sand.

The play went to stage initially during the Melbourne Festival last year, in a co-production by Ilbijjeri Theatre Co-operative and Playbox. The script has involved many artists in its development that may be the reason it does not have one consistent voice.

This revival replaces two actors. Lisa Maza demonstrates substantial acting skill as Ruby, the child who becomes the target of a white man's abuse. Elliot Maynard plays Jimmy who, as a child, awaits his mum's return to collect him until he is told, falsely, that she is dead.

Shirley (Pauline Whyman) is a sturdy girl who, as an adult, is determined to find her own children who were also stolen. Sandy (Stan Yarramunua) is a wanderer who ran from the welfare as a tot and continues to search for "home". Anne, (Tammy Anderso)  the palest-skinned child adopted by a white family, is torn between two families and two cultures.

The company is strong ensemble that is enhanced by Wesley Enoch's vision as a director. The script is a non-linear narrative that merges past with present. Enoch uses stylised physicalisation to heighten dialogue and adds simple visual imagery with projections against Richard Roberts evocative demolition site. Stark lighting (Matt Scott) creates deep shadows through metal beds that double as gaol. The soundscape by David Chesworth is atmospheric.

The performances capture the charm and warmth of this community who have suffered so much at the hands of the white brothers and sisters. But it is the actors' personal statements at the very end that set the tears rolling. The audience could have applauded for hours if the cast had not left the stage.

By Kate Herbert

The Prima Facie Kid, July 22 1999

 written and performed by Angus Cerini

at La Mama until August 2, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Angus Cerini has an enormous power generator secreted somewhere in La Mama. He burn so much energy during his 70 minute solo show, The Prima Facie Kid, that on can almost see sparks fly from him.

This is the fourth in a series of short works Cerini has written and performed since 1997. The others are Recidivist, Dennis is Dead and F...wit. They all focus on issues of male violence, which Cerini believes must be addressed or rather confronted by his generation.

The Prima Facie Kid, directed by Karen Corbett, falls into two distinct parts. In the first, Cerini is an agitated clown who, we discover, entertains sick and dying children in hospital. He is driven by his quest to help the children forget their grief and pain. This character and his story make very moving theatre and could have successfully sustained the entire play.

However, he is so overwhelmed by his ongoing contact with such tragedy that he becomes the proverbial sad clown,  drunk clown, to be precise. Cerini's writing is a grab bag of hilarious dialogue, non-sequiturs, TV references, social commentary and naughtiness.

The clown remains pivotal in the second half and there are some fascinating ideas, allusions and characters but there is far less cohesion or clarity in the narrative. It is extremely confusing for this weary brain.

A powerful character is introduced as a story told by the clown. He is tattooed dad who murdered a child abuser. After this interlude, the clown is more wretched, drinker and the dialogue is interrupted by quick television news style grabs from a court case.

Cerini is a fine talent with exceptional energy and director Karen Corbett has kept the pace pumping and filled the space with emotional action. The play could benefit from the odd silence or stillness to accent the rest of this relentless toboggan ride but it is a potent piece with something to say.

Kate Herbert

Shadows and Light , John Bolton, 21 July 1999

Written and performed by John Bolton 

at Trades Hall until August 6, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

It is refreshing to be spoken to in the theatre. 

Usually we sit in darkness and listen and, if we are naughty, whisper the odd comment to our neighbour. John Bolton seems to look each one of us in the eye and have a personal chat about his life in art and love and Zen Buddhism.

Of course, he doesn't only talk. Bolton, who only recently closed his acting school in Williamstown, is a consummate mime and clown who trained in Paris in the 70's at L'Ecole Jacques Le Coq. Paris features prominently in Shadows and Light.

The art of storytelling is a subtle one and Bolton has a very individual and effective style that could be called "self narration": That is, he tells the story while he plays it physically. He even adds songs and costumes and some audience participation. the style is warm, charming and ever so engaging. You'll wish you had a cup of tea and bun by the fire.

The show is a series of anecdotes. It begin with his childhood in England which is told through shadow puppets. The drama school tales are hilarious because of the myriad British characters he plays, shifting from one to t'other without missing an accent.

Bolton peoples the stage with characters, all of who are believable an complete. Extraordinarily, they bleed into his own narration as he tells his own story.

He performed in a children's theatre troupe in Edinburgh, (hence the audience participation) busked through France, met, a mad drunken American, his wife-to-be and, finally, arrived at mime school in Paris. All these acting school types are more hilarious if you've worked in this environment with such pompous egomaniacs, but they are funny even without the personal experience.

The piece moves swiftly until the more poignant and intimate moments about his parents and death. There are moments toward the end, when there is a touch too much sentimentalism as he lights lamps to commemorate particular people. However, such honesty is lacking on the mainstage and we could do with more real sentiment rather than less.

The amazing thing is that Bolton manages to make Buddhism as funny as clowns. It is a very sweet show. I laughed out loud - very loud.

By Kate Herbert  

The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, MT, 21 July 1999

By Bertolt Brecht 

translated by Ranjit Bolt 

Melbourne Theatre Company at Playhouse until August 21, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

The final line is the most chilling moment in Bertolt Brecht's, The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui. "The bitch that bore him is on heat again."

It is a comment to halt thunderous applause mid-clap and force an audience to gasp and reflect on the rise of Hitler and to be vigilant. A tyrant can arise when we are looking away.

Arturo Ui is written on two levels. Its surface narrative is about the juggernaut rise to notoriety of Arturo Ui, a Chicago gangster. The other layer refers to Hitler's Germany in the 30's, from which Brecht, an ardent Marxist, escaped to Scandinavia then to the US where he wrote Ui in 1942 which was not performed until 1958 in Stuttgart.

Simon Phillips' production captures Brecht's cabaret-style theatre and is riddled with dualities. It combines slapstick and high-tech and the gangsters are both ridiculous and frightening, Ian McDonald's original music (requiring special permission from Brecht Family) is lively yet ominous and Dale Ferguson's miniature Chicago design is cute but powerful.

Ranjit Bolt's exceptional translation maintains the Shakespearian rhyme and five-beat metre of Brecht's original text as well as including pertinent quotes from Shakespeare.

Brecht's intention was to educate the public about political issues. He hammers us once or twice too often with the parallels between Ui and Hitler. Nonetheless, his criticisms of fascists and power are clear.

Arturo (Frank Gallacher) owns almost everybody in Chicago except the moral old Dogsborough, (Terry Norris) He offers "protection" they offer "support".

Gallacher is compelling as the emotional psychopath, Arturo who has no qualms about ordering killing of even his best friend, Ernesto Roma (Linal Haft). His transformation from the Chaplinesque opening image to the Hitler-look alike, is frightening.

He is supported on stage by a fine cast of fourteen men and only one woman, Rachael Tidd who plays a bevy of female roles. Most play a musical instrument. Haft, as the consummate loyal lieutenant, has enormous range and should be seen more often.  Paul Capsis is bitter-sweet as the Marlene-style singing narrator, Gerry Connolly and Jim Daly provide some fine comic turns.

Although the text needs half an hour edited out, the show is entertaining and "didactic" in the best possible Brechtian manner. It is a pity Brecht's Berliner Ensemble is closing down in a fortnight.

By Kate Herbert

Possession by Glen Shea , 9 July 1999

 by Glen Shea

at National Theatre July 9, 10, 11, 17, 18, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

New plays by indigenous Australian artists are no longer a rare occurrence. Over the past two years we have seen a series of plays including Up The Road, Seven Stages of Grieving, Stolen and Box the Pony to name a few. All of these were moving and theatrically skilful indigenous plays produced by major festivals, theatre companies and independent artists.

These productions deal with issues of dual culture, reconciliation and grief amongst other things, and all have been the product of experienced indigenous performers, directors or writers who have created potent theatrical experiences for our audiences.

Koori actor, Glen Shea, a graduate of NIDA in Sydney, has written Possession as part of Wi Iri We Homeborn, the Indigenous Arts Festival that coincides with the 61st NADOC Week.

Despite its good intentions, this play does not meet the standard of the aforementioned productions in terms of script, direction, production values or performance.

Two men and a woman, evidently siblings, inhabit what appears to be a strange kind of nether world where their past is muddle with their present, and where their regrets and conflicts are paramount.

A white "host" interjects occasionally, making poetic statements and coaxing them to remember the horrors of their shared childhood and the violence of their father who abused them. They are riddled with guilt and shame that has shattered their family, but they seek reconciliation and absolution.

The problems lie not in the basic concept of the play but in its execution. The script initially seems to follow Jean Genet's "No Exit", in which three people are trapped together in a hell of their own making. However, Possession is obtuse rather than abstract that leaves narrative unclear. The song that followed the play could be integrated as an effective chorus.

Dialogue shifts between the obvious and the melodramatic forcing characters to remain two-dimensional. The actors (David Ngoombujarra, Kathryn Hartman, Peter Docker, Glen Shea) compensate by over-acting.

Direction by Shea, who also performs, is unimaginative and staging is static with five chairs and tables set on a semi-circle on a stage much too big for this play. The play would benefit from further development and dramaturgical advice.

By Kate Herbert

Quintet , 15 July 1999

By Graham Henderson at La Mama until August 1, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

The collision of the poetic and the theatrical can be a fine accident. Some of Graham Henderson's prolific writing (he has written 42 plays since 1976) makes lyrical theatre. Others are less successful.

Quintet is a collection of five short poetic monologues and duologues. All wallow in reverie about love and passion, aloneness and pain, each viewing them from a different angle. The language is dense and reflective, apart from the Beckettian clowns of The Desert and the Sea.

Characters remain internalised without any physical presence, which is the nature of the poetic theatre. All are set against a design incorporating falling water, (Stuart Vaskess) the sound of which is accented by live guitar and violin (Cousin Frank, David Branson).

Ithica is a monologue performed by Louise Morris. She stands in blue light, speaking of her inexplicable illness and her lover on whom she relies for her recovery.

The Desert and the Sea, performed by Phil Roberts and Danny Diesendorf, is the only piece in which characters communicate directly, albeit absurdly. They wait in the desert for a train to stop. They are travelling salesmen with a case full of tinned sardines which provides them with sustenance and a reminder of the Ocean from which sprang one of the men some twenty years   gills prove his briny origins.

Face is the most theatrically effective and emotionally affecting piece. It is also the most proficiently performed. David Branson), director of three of the pieces, looks almost bruised standing in a harsh overhead spotlight. He speaks of despair and loneliness and his chance meeting with an exotic woman who came to love him. It is an impassioned and restrained performance of a text that is less obtuse than much of the other writing.

White  (Diesendorf, Rebecca Rutter) goes further into obscurity than is comfortable in the theatre. Two people stand in the doorway obsessing over dust, death and all things white. The main flaw here is the weakness of the performers.

Room again focuses on lovers but, this time, we view them in short filmic grabs lying on white bedclothes in white clothing as they dream away days in each other's arms locked in a room.

Henderson's themes of the discovery of love and companionship, work in part for the stage but demand strong performers to make them theatrical .

By Kate Herbert

The Lover and The Collection, MTC, 14 July 1999

by Harold Pinter 

MTC Fairfax Studio until August 14, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

In a recently screened interview with Harold Pinter, he exuded an atmosphere akin to that of his plays. He was cryptic, slow to respond, considered, laconic and often hilarious without cracking a smile. He has a stately presence, a bulky sensuality, resonant voice and a wicked irreverence for just about everything.

Melbourne Theatre Company have twinned two of his short plays: The Lover and The Collection. They are a happy marriage.

The Collection is directed by Jenny Kemp) with a delicate restraint and balance which matches Pinter's sharply honed dialogue. It is enhanced by a spare, cool design (Richard Roberts) with its flat grey surfaces and sleek furniture.

Bill (David Tredinnick), a clothing designer and Ex-"Slum Slug", lives with the older Harry (Bruce Myles) in an ambiguous relationship and a flash apartment. James (Robert Menzies) blunders in to interrogate Bill about James' own wife (Melita Jurisic).

The play moves in a near circle, with the end echoing the beginning. Similarly, The Lover appears to return to its start but, in both, nothing is the same and nothing is resolved.

The Lover, with lively direction by Bruce Myles, has a far greater sense of the menace which is characteristic of Pinter's theatre. An innocuous suburban husband and wife seem to tolerate each other's lovers but it becomes clear that their world is twisted by their bizarre secret life. Both plays revolve around a sexual fantasy in some way.

All four performances are delightfully eccentric and combine an emotional intensity with heightened physicality. The outcome is interesting: melodrama viewed through a broken glass.

Tredinnick as Bill has a boyish seductiveness and his background dancing in the second play is hilarious. Myles is edgy and dry as Harry while Menzies presses alarm bells with his dangerous characters in both plays.

The 180 -degree turn in the characters in The Lover, is disturbing and comic and the seduction scene is both erotic and lunatic. Jurisic hits a peak of her hallmark eccentricity in this scene. Pinter is not a writer to be described. See these plays. They are gems.

By Kate Herbert

Two by Jim Cartwright, 2 July 1999

Dolman Theatre Company

Beckett Theatre until July 17, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

English playwright, Jim Cartwright, was responsible for the extraordinary stage version of the film, Little Voice and there are echoes of its style in his earlier play, Two. It has the tenor of Northern England's working class people, their drinking holes and habits and even their fraught relationships.

Dolmen Theatre Company, the company that staged another two-hander, Brian Friel's Winners, in 1998, produced Two. The script, which is the greatest strength of this production, is a series of two-shot scenes in a Lancashire pub run by a bickering couple. They are the only pair we see more than once.

Cartwright creates a parade of bizarre, tragic, comic and poignant characters who inhabit the entire spectrum of dysfunctional relationships.

We see the mousy, abused woman who cannot look up without being accused of  flirting by her manipulative, jealous, emotionally abusive husband.

Then there is the converse of this pair in the demanding sex-pot wife who fantasises about wrapping her thighs around enormous, hulking men only to be reminded that she is married to Superwimp who cannot even beat a path to the bar for two lemonades without cringing.

One lovingly written couple is the sweetly eccentric pair who arrive wearing puffy, sensible parkas and proceed to watch an old movie on the pub television. They describe themselves as "fat and old". She weeps over Elvis and fears another breakdown. He dreams of being a fat, old, movie star.

The problem with this production is that the performances of all these delightful characters are less than three-dimensional. Dominica Ryan and Paul Dawber, with director David Myles, make a valiant effort but there is something important missing from the recipe.

There is too little differentiation between the playing of the diverse personalities and physicalities, particularly from Ryan who has too limited a vocal range for so many roles.

The comic delivery and timing is uneven and scene changes are too slow. The production lacks dynamic range and the emotional layering is superficial even in the final scene of despair and pathos between the publicans. It is a good effort but the production does not meet the quality of the script.

By Kate Herbert

Cloudstreet, 30 June 1999

adapted by Nick Enright & Justin Monjo from Tim Winton's book

Company B, Black Swan, Playbox , MTC,

Victorian Arts Centre until August 1, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Cloudstreet is the perfect title for this play: it has its feet on the earth and its head in some other misty world.

This adaptation (Nick Enright, Justin Monjo) has the "magic Australianism" of Tim Winton's novel pared down to four hours. Favourite characters leap off the page onto a bare stage speaking Winton's witty 1940's Aussie lingo. Only occasional lines of dialogue slip into obscure philosophising.

The production is a momentous collaboration between six organisations, the originators being Company B (Sydney) and Black Swan (Perth). It sold out at both Sydney and Perth Festivals in1998.

Neil Armfield's direction is exceptional, miraculously conjuring the huge, rambling house at No. One Cloud Street, Perth and its two families. We see the hard-drinking, smoking, gambling Pickles who own it and their tenants, the Lambs, driven by the Christian work ethic.

Fish Lamb (Daniel Wyllie) is the spine, or rather, the soul of the story. At age nine, he was saved from drowning - but "not all of Fish Lamb came back."  He is no longer the smart, cheeky Fish everybody loved. He yearns for the peace of the water which spat him back, has uncanny foresight and sees the dead.

Armfield has assembled a versatile and skilful ensemble. John Gaden as Lester Lamb is sweet and lovable. As his tartar wife, Judi Farr is tormented and driven by grief. Max Cullen captures the cheerful incompetence of Sam Pickles who chases the "Shifty Shadder", Lady Luck. Kris McQuade, as his gorgeous, slatternly wife, Dolly, is a tragic shell of a lusty woman.

Wyllie is poignant and sustained as the idiot savant, Fish. Christopher Pitman is moving as his guilt-ridden brother, Quick, who seeks to eliminate evil, and Claire Jones as the quick-witted Rose, is magnetic.

Robert Cousins sparse set design is a gift. The original production was staged in a warehouse but the rambling openness is replicated in the canvas walls, shadow screens, sand and wood flooring. Composer, Iain Grandage plays evocative piano and cello live and the lighting by Mark Howett is magical.

Armfield has created a visionary, deceptively simple show that has complexity, detail, intelligence and joy. Don't be put off by the length. You get to eat and you might even get a very dramatic fire evacuation, as we did on opening night.

By Kate Herbert

Carboni, 29 June 1999

Carboni (or The Consequences of Some Pirates Wanting on Quarter Deck a Rebellion)

by John Romeril La Mama at the Courthouse until July 10, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

It is chastening that Carboni, which is the only truly political Australian play in town, was written in 1979. Playwright, John Romeril, is almost the last of our political playwrights. He is committed to rabble rousing, lefty shows with funny, musical content.

Romeril took the text for his monodrama directly from Raffaello Carboni's original work, The Eureka Stockade, written in 1855. Carboni was an Italian immigrant with a clever, poetic turn of phrase, an observant eye and a revolutionary's heart. His time on the Ballarat goldfields was one of the most eventful and bloody in our history since British settlement.

Adam Cass, directed by Graeme Dale, plays Carboni as an articulate, worldy Italian who is appalled by the events in Ballarat in the 1850's.

The style of the script is " didactic" theatre in the best sense of the word. It is informational and  "alienates" in the manner of German playwright Bertolt Brecht, by forcing us to observe and form opinions.

The music is composed by pianist, Anthony Pateras, and played with Robin Fox on drums and Adele Conlin on violin. It has the clang of Eastern European folk traditions and echoes Brecht's Mahagonny. George Dreyfuss wrote some of the original score for the 1979 production.

The direction does not do justice to Romeril's script nor to Carboni's story. It relies too heavily on broad posturing, which is a poor replica of Brecht's "Gest": gestural theatre. The shadow images, inside clunky screens plumped centre-stage, are only partially visible to side seats.

The music is interesting but so loud, particularly the drums, that Cass is incomprehensible for large sections of the text in spite of his big voice.

It requires great skill to carry a solo show and Cass gives a committed although limited performance. He is mannered, lacks depth and his character and scene transitions are clumsy. He is more effective in the latter half when the focus is on Bakery Hill, the massacre and the ensuing court cases for High Treason. Carboni's graphic detail and emotional language are compelling here.

After hearign his account of Bakery Hill, it is no wonder Carboni returned to Italy to soldier for Garibaldi.

By Kate Herbert

Body: Celebration of the Machine, 26 June 1999

By Amanda Owen

at La Mama until July 11, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Watching an acrobat in action makes one marvel at the human body. But even a skilled acrobat such as Amanda Owen is still astonished at the complex workings of this delicate mechanism of flesh and bone.

Amanda Owen, with director, Donna Jackson, has created Body: Celebration of the Machine for this very reason. Owen employs the external workings of the body to demonstrate and celebrate the inner operations.

The body she explores through physical theatre is a living, feeling, pleasure-seeking machine. It is the vulnerable and the generative machine.- which breathes, hurts, yawns, digests and sleeps. It even gives birth and dies when it runs out of fuel - or time.

Owen's own body is a fine specimen of highly trained muscle. She wheels, twists, somersaults and catapults her way through the tiny La Mama space. In spite of the confined space, they have even managed to rig some circus suspension gear from the roof.

The design is almost entirely composed of slides projected by three projectors onto the rear wall. They comprise beautifully photographed (Ponch Hawkes) images of faces and bodies as well as stylish graphics (Lin Tobias) of skeletons and machines accompanied by text.

The show is not entirely phsyical theatre. Owen tells stories about family, pregnancy, injury. One is about her mum's hip replacement told graphically through shadow puppets. She ocasionally plays characters, some of which are actually drawn onto intimate parts of her body with texta pen.

These body characters are part of a witty song, with music by Kim Baston, which is performed as a miniature puppet show behind little curtained stages.

The most hilarious section of the show is the story of body excreta told through "interpretive dance". Being English, Owen was never allowed to discuss 'emissions' so euphemisms were her only option.

Owen is warm, charming and a highly skilled physical performer. She spent 15 years working in circuses and physical theatre companies in Europe until she came to Australia in 1993 in Trestle Theatre's State of Bewilderment that was a staged version of Leunig cartoons.

There are some moments of visual poetry such as the final rebirth scene an there is some quirky use of magician's illusion one of which depicts gruesome self-mutilation.

This is an unusual and clever show that is worth a look.

By Kate Herbert  

The Merry Widow, 25 June 1999

Music by Franz Lehar

Original book and lyrics by Victor Leon & Leo Stein; English version by Christopher Hassall

 State Theatre from June 24 until July, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Franz Lehar's, The Merry Widow, typifies the sensual, cultured, fun-loving reputation of the Viennese. It is a bright and cheerful romance that was his only hit.

The Merry Widow is a light opera which took the western world by storm in the three years after its premiere in December 1905 at the Theater an der Wien. It has more singable tunes, peppy lyrics and romance per square inch than Hollywood in the 30's.

This production, directed by Rodney Fisher and produced by Simon Galaher and Essgee, responsible for Pirates of Penzance and the less successful Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. These shows concentrated on entertainment rather than singing quality .

Marina Prior plays Hanna Glavari, the rich widow from the Eastern European principality Pontevedro that Lehar modelled on Montenegro. The economy of the country relies on her millions so Baron Zeta, (Max Gillies ) ambassador to Paris, is compelled to marry her to a Pontevedran despite the bevy of Parisian seducers pursuing her.

Prior is pert as the widow and sings most songs prettily although the normally bewitching, poignant Vilia lacked control and strength. As her past lover, the rakish Count Danilo, John O'May is sexy and charming and can certainly sell a song. Their duet "Love Unspoken" was effective.

Two comic roles are played superbly. Gillies is sweetly foolish as the Baron. The highlight was Grant Piro as Njegus, the Baron's gauche, twitching secretary and hilarious in his rendition of "Gay Parissienne" in the style of Joel Gray.

Gallaher sang well as de Rosillon but Helen Donaldson as his secret lover, lacked presence and was the only role with a broad Aussie accent.

The English version of Leo and Stein's book is cleverly translated by Christopher Hassall and additional dialogue by Rodney Fisher adds a contemporary flavour.

 Stage design  by Zac Brown is exceptional, particularly in Act 1. The turquoise and lavendar tones of the tilting glazed dome over a steep stair were luminous. and Brown's costumes were gloriously frivolous.

The orchestra conducted by Vladimir Kamirski was commendable apart from some poor entrances in Act 1. Choreography by Andris Toppe was witty and the full male chorus number, "Girls!", with high kicks and Swan Lake chorus line, was a crowd pleaser.

This is an entertaining show to rival the other contemporary musicals in town.

By Kate Herbert

Popcorn by Ben Elton, 19 June 1999

 Athenaeum II from June 19, 1999

In our increasingly litigious era, it is interesting that Melbourne is seeing two plays dealing with rubbery law. In Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, Portia manipulates/interprets law to save Antonio and punish Shylock.

Ben Elton's comedy-thriller, Popcorn, demonstrate that, with strong argument and sufficient media coverage, the guilty can appear victimised, even innocent.

Hollywood movie director, Bruce Delamitri (Steven Vidler) makes films which glamorise sex and violence as do Tarantino and Stone. He returns home from the Academy Awards with two prizes: an Oscar and Playboy centrefold, Brooke Daniels. (Helen Thomson). The evening turns sour when his fans, the Mall Murderers (Steve Bastoni, Nadine Garner), hold him hostage.

Elton is a consummate comedy writer and the dialogue in this dramatised version of his novel deserves its Olivier Award for best comedy

Frequently, the 'white trash' killers speak eloquently in Californian psycho-babble but the very incongruity of such language out of their mouths is hilarious.

Director, Kaarin Fairfax, has effectively kept the pace in overdrive for two hours although some moments in second gear would be useful. It is exhilarating, exhausting and relentless just like Elton.

Ironically, Elton himself, while criticising both screen and real violence, manages to glamorise the crims. It is disturbing to laugh while feeling horrified at our own amusement. Remember Pulp Fiction?

With instant modern media coverage, The Public may be unable or, more likely, unwilling to distinguish real from simulated violence. Do we care in the end whether someone really dies if it makes good TV?

It may all sound serious content but it is a frenetically good romp in the theatre if you are not overly sensitive to sexism and violence.

Steve Bastoni is deliciously unpredictable as the ruthless, delirious, sexist murderer, Wayne Hudson. His stage presence, comic timing and delivery are exceptional.

Helen Thomson as Brooke–"I'm an actor"–Daniels, works the role with great comic craft and plays Elton's sexy pantihose strip to the hilt. Garner is wild and funny as Scout, Wayne's equally crazed lover, although she could reduce the facepulling.

Vidler is suitably repellant as the smarmy director and Jane Turner is outrageous as his brash, money-grubbing wife. Support from Stephen O-Rourke and Bianca Rowe and others was commendable.

The play is a comic indictment of the American legal and social system out of control. It is, however, unlikely to change anything.

By Kate Herbert

The Merchant of Venice , 18 June 1999

By William Shakespeare

Bell Shakespeare Company at Atheneaum 1, until 3 July, 1999

It is certainly a novelty to witness a production of Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice riddled with adolescent jokes, sexual innuendo and anachronistic costumes. The novelty rapidly wears thin.

Fortunately, the final acts lean less heavily on silliness and Richard Wherrett's direction has greater consistency. This is not to suggest that injecting The Merchant with surprises and highlighting its humour is a mistake.

The problem is that the production has no coherent vision and is dominated by often inappropriately wacky character interpretations and very uneven acting ability. It lacks charismatic performances but has a number of funny cameos.

  The staging is confined by a very beautiful beaten metallic design that, however, makes the space inflexible for action.

Bell's first, more successful production of Merchant expanded the potentially homo-erotic relationship between Antonio and Bassanio. In this production, the idea is clumsily wrought with a kiss occurring too late in the play.

Shylock, (Percy Sieff) a moneylender, advances 3000 ducats to Antonio (Graham Harvey), the merchant of the title. Antonio, against his principles, is borrowing against prospective income to subsidise his friend, Bassanio (Rhett Walton). It all ends in tears - for Shylock.

Shylock is a Jew, spurned by Venetians for his usury. Sieff gives a sound and substantial performance. He plays Shylock with an edge of fragility and uncertainty arising from his persecution by Venetians who have no comprehension of his race nor of his business. This nervousness balances Shylock's vengeful passion to exact his due from Antonio when the loan cannot be repaid.

The sub-plots concern attitudes to romance and the role of women. Portia, Bassanio's chosen love, is a spirited, intelligent young woman who must disguise herself as a man to be heard in court.

As Portia, Odile Le Clezio was disappointingly shallow, racing through dialogue and demonstrating little of the magnetism that would allow her to dominate the courtroom.

Although Shylock appears in only five scenes, his character and predicament provide the spine. He forces us to address racism, alienation, loss and revenge.

This modern audience, versed in prejudice, must consider injustice from two diametrically opposed positions. Shylock has a right to his day in court and to payment of his bond: "a pound of flesh". But does he have the right to take a life in order to appease his rage at being alienated?

By Kate Herbert

The Picnic by Tom Petsinis, 18 June 1999

La Mama at Victoria University E Theatre until June 20, 1999

The migrant experience provides great material for narrative in the theatre as do the ancient Greek myths. Playwright, Tom Petsinis, has attempted, unsuccessfully, to marry the two in a story that draws, in a circuitous fashion, on the story of Penelope and her son Telemachus, who were abandoned by Ulysses during the Trojan War.

Petsinis's earlier play, The Drought, found a more effective mode of applying to a contemporary tragedy, the ancient Greek theatrical convention of the singing /dancing chorus. The Picnic emerges as melodrama, not tragedy, complete with a cap pistol.

The parallels with the Ulysses myth are tenuous. Petro Belos (Simon Karamitan) came to Australia 20 years ago and changed his name to Pete Bell. He abandoned his wife and son when he remarried bigamously. 20 years later, his son comes hunting his father and revenge. The play ends with a death; whose is unclear.

Script problems are compounded by unimaginative and clumsy direction by Petsinis. Another problem is the casting of only three professional actors (Ian Scott, Maria Limberis, Julie Campbell) who perform with great commitment and virtuosity.

The remainder of the cast comprises Victoria University students and amateur actors from the Greek community. All of these performers are keen but are limited in skill and range.

This is not strictly community theatre. It is not developed nor exclusively performed by the Greek community nor does it tell stories of specific members of the community. It cannot, then, be viewed as a community theatre project so its flaws must be assessed in the cold light of day.

There are too many songs played and sung by band and singer (Triandafilos Nicolpoulos, Paul Glouftsis, Chris Roikov, Marion Stojanovski). The lyrics are unclear and the singer, although in fine voice, cannot adequately replacement the power and poetry of a Greek chorus.

The accompaniment of all songs by a chain of Geek dancers is, initially, charmingly folkloric but becomes tired and predictable. For the first 45 minutes, there is absolutely no dramatic action. The first high point is Limberis as Granny in Greece followed by Scott's compelling poetic monologue as "the actor".

Limberis is hilarious as a raving Greek woman and Scott is moving as the senile old Uncle who is looking for his stolen dreams. Campbell is credible as the jealous and frightened second wife, Stella.

The production is simply a sandwich short of the full picnic.

By Kate Herbert

Mame, 2 June 1999

 Book by Jerome Lawrence and Robert E Lee; Music and Lyrics by Jerry Herman

At Melbourne Concert Hall June 2, 3 & 4, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Australia produces high quality musicals and, in them, we see local stars of international standard. The intention of Melbourne-based group, The Production Company, under the patronage of Jeanne Pratt, is to stage concert versions of musicals featuring Australian talent.

The first of these projects is Mame, directed and choreographed by David Atkins and with his pal and regular collaborator, Rhonda Burchmore, in the title role. She follows in the footsteps of numerous Broadway and West End stars.

The brassy Rosalind Russell was an enormous hit in 1958 in the play, Auntie Mame, which preceded Jerry Herman's 1966 musical adaptation. The first, and perhaps most successful leading lady in the musical role was Angela Lansbury. Does anyone remember now that the Murder She Wrote star could sing?

Burchmore is very popular in some quarters and has featured in shows as diverse as Hot Shoe Shuffle, Hey Hey It's Saturday and Die Fledermaus . Her particular style either appeals or does not. She plays a bold, quirky and progressive New Yorker with heaps of hootsbah. The latter Burchmore may have, but she lacks any semblance of the extraordinary, eccentric or charismatic required for this role.

This is not to say that she is not entertaining. She works hard to pump out the litany of fabulously singable songs including It's Today, Open a New Window, We Need a Little Christmas and many others which are supported by a spectacularly good chorus and cameo performances.

Accolades go to the luminous Pamela Rabe as Vera Charles, the throaty sensualist and lush, "First Lady of the American Theatre" and Mame's gladiatorial friend. Rabe steals the show with her impeccable comic timing and delivery, warm voice and detailed characterisation.

The Australian Theatre Orchestra, conducted with zest by Andrew Greene, provides a full sound. Atkins' direction keeps the pace cracking and fills the stage with action. The show retains all Herman's songs as well as Lawrence and Lee's witty, pithy dialogue. This is a script with some dream one-liners and Burchmore and Rabe make a meal of them. Their "bitchy friends" duet, Bosom Buddies, is a highlight.

Susan-ann Walker as frumpy nanny, Agnes Gooch was a delight. Alan Fletcher as Mame's rich husband, Rod McLennan as stitched-up trustee for Mame's orphaned nephew and Geoffrey Baird as her friend Lindsay were all commendable. The cast is strong and the evening is entertaining.

By Kate Herbert

A Month in the Country, 29 May 1999

By Brian Friel  after Turgenev

VCA Graduating Year at Grant Street Theatre

until June 6, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

"All love is a catastrophe," says Michel  (Tyson Salijevic), Natalya's spurned lover in Turgenev's A Month in the Country. When an attractive stranger is introduced into an outwardly stable environment, everything goes awry.

Emotional chaos follows the appointment of the handsome young tutor, Aleksy in the house of Natalya (Tanja Bulatovic) and her rustic husband, Arkady ( Jonathan Pasvolsky). The situation echoes the arrival of Elena in Chekhov's Uncle Vanya.

A Month in the Country has all the sublimated passion and thwarted desires of the Russian style. Only the two servants, Katya (Jenny Schwinghammer) and Matvey (Howard Stanley) find love in the end.

The play provides the perfect showcase for the Victorian College of the Arts graduating actors. It is a ensemble piece with no star roles so each actor can strut his or her stuff at some point in the play.

Australian-US resident, Michael Edwards directs this stylish, albeit conventional production. Dean of Drama School, Lindy Davies, evidently twisted  his arm to convince him to take the job, but the product is strong and both company and director seem delighted with the outcome.

The stage design (Rainbow Sweeney) is a beautifully simple polished blond wood floor with deeper, more decorative wooden chairs and table. Period costumes (Amanda Silk) in muted tones add the only adornment.

The style of performance is natural and underplayed. Actors are comfortable and relaxed on stage - sometimes too relaxed. The energy level often drops to such a degree that they are almost inaudible.

The ensemble is strong and includes professional actors, Howard Stanley, Paul Robertson and Will Hodgson all of whom provide hilarious and colourful cameos.

As the gag-meister doctor, Shpigelsky, Joseph Manning is a energetic presence and his loved one, Lisaveta, is played with dignity by Amanda Hulme. Sibylla Budd as the ingenue, Vera, marries a sweet naivete with intense emotion and Oliviero Papi is a bright and lively Aleksy.

Playing Natalya, Bulatovic shifts aptly between mature and childish seductiveness and Pasvolsky captures her husband's gaucheness.

Although the production lacks a dynamic energy, it is a fine production.

By Kate Herbert

The Dogs Play and A Few Roos Short in the Top Paddock, 27 May 1999

by Tee O'Neill.

 Playbox at Beckett Theatre until June, 1999

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

The short play is not necessarily easier or simpler to write than the full length.

It requires the same sense of dramatic structure and style, clarity of characterisation and theme. In fact, it can be more difficult to provide a complete vision in a shorter time while still finding layers of sub-text and depth of meaning.

Only one of Tee O'Neill's two short plays goes any distance to achieving these dramatic goals. The Dogs Play is a grim, vaudevillian piece that attempts to address issues of childhood rape, sexual precociousness, prostitution and abuse.

A barking clan of dogs. (Ben Rogan, Matthew Quartermaine, Tracey Harvey, Ross Daniels) constantly circle the central character, Jenna (Melita Jurisic). They scuffle and gambol on the dirt floor set, (designed by Leon Salom), teasing and taunting their mistress, Jenna.

The actors, in almost cartoon dog suits with black puppy noses and floppy ears, also play the male clients of Jenna, the adult hooker. They flip from playground humour to outrageously sexist bar room jokes and from physical gags to stylised but grotesque sexual abuse.

David Bell's direction is swift and the actors, most of whom are stand-up comics, make a cohesive ensemble with impeccable comic timing. Ross Daniels particularly, has an hilarious range of mad characters. Jurisic provides a fine haunting quality that is accentuated by David Murray's evocative lighting.

However, the play just wanders around getting nowhere in the end. We are virtually unshockable these days, so its overt sexual scenes and gross jokes are adolescent rather than confronting.

The first play in the program, A Few Roos Short in the Top Paddock, is confused. Giant kangaroos and a female commando-pest exterminator invade a corporate couple's suburban home. Rather than exploring an absurdist style, the play is just plain silly and looks like a 40 minute under-graduate revue sketch.

The actor struggle to make sense of the narrative and dialogue comprised of platitudes and very poor gags. There is very little to recommend this piece. The Dogs Play would have been better off alone on stage.

A short play can provide a crystalised vision. Tee O'Neill's two plays struggle to achieve this.

by Kate Herbert