They Shoot Poets Don’t They? La Mama, Feb 22, 2007

They Shoot Poets Don’t They? by James Pratt

La Mama, Feb 22 to March 4, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on Feb 22, 2007

Hoorah! They Shoot Poets Don’t They? is a really funny solo show with language and character.

It features a supercilious performance poet, Sebastian Flange, the invention of performer, James Pratt.

Flange (best pronounced “Flaaaaange” with a smirk) is alone on stage, dressed in a blue shirt and black jacket, with a startling overbite and a spittle-soaked lisp. He prances and postures, reciting or reading classics from the poetic lexicon in an affected accent.

He opens with a sexy interpretation of Walt Whitman, moves on to an indulgent analysis of Wordsworth on the beauty of Nature, then to Shakespeare and a personal view of Hamlet’s speech, “To be or not to be”. His reading of Marvell’s To His Coy Mistress uses the classical poem as a personal and contemporary seduction.

Flange is smug and conceited. He moves languidly around the space, posing for our benefit and imitating the gestures and dance that Shakespeare supposedly employed while seeking inspiration. He perches on a stool, gazing seductively at members of the audience, challenging us with his poetic vision.

Flange’s own writings include a comically banal poem about a cup of tea that we read while he sips a cuppa from a thermos flask. Pratt, as Flange, accurately and hilariously portrays a familiar type of overblown, arrogant pseudo-artist.

Nestled between his poetic ramblings and capering is a story about Flange’s mother’s weird life and death. A rampaging cow mauled her, grabbing her by the throat, crushing her larynx and rendering her mute. Nuns nursed her back to health while the teenage Sebastian read Shakespeare to her.

Flange’s father left his roofing iron sales job and became a pirate. Years later, Flange himself became a seaman and befriended the ironically named Tom Sawyerson.

This grinning, patronising character is a delight to behold. Pratt, as Flange, is confrontational, intimate, engaging and very, very funny. He creates a contemporary clown that challenges us with language and comedy.

By Kate Herbert

Autobahn by Neil Labute, Feb 21, 2007

Autobahn by Neil Labute

By Act-O-Matic 3000

Cromwell Rd Theatre,  Wed to Sat, Feb 21 to March 3, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Neil Labute’s short play cycle is a disturbing and revealing vision of ordinary people in ordinary relationships. 

Each of the seven mini-plays is set in the front seat of a car with two characters. Some are virtually a monologue, with a silent character acting as a sounding board for the other’s obsessive chatter.

The direction, by David Ryding, is slick and focuses on the characters’ emotional drive. The cast is accomplished and Labute’s writing compelling.

In Autobahn, a woman (Brenda McKinty), the passenger, prattles anxiously to her silent husband while he drives. Their predicament unfolds slowly as she reveals that their teenage foster son has stolen their car and accused his father of abuse. Her husband’s frozen silence is powerful.

All Apologies is, like Autobahn, a monologue to a silent character. An enraged and humiliated man (Dan Walls) attempts to apologise to his coolly listening wife for his verbal abuse. Her silence makes him angrier and his rant becomes an excuse for his bad behaviour rather than an apology.

Shanrah Wakefield, in Funny, plays a young woman just out of drug rehabilitation. She talks in a stream of consciousness, gazing out the car window while her long-suffering, silent mother drives. But her languid ramblings soon become manipulative and distressing.

Merge is the first dialogue. A man (David Gardette), having collected his wife (Catherine Kohlen) from the airport after a conference, painfully unravels the truth about her sordid experience with two men in her hotel room.

In the second half, an Hispanic homeboy (Juan Modinger) drives his buddy to collect his Nintendo from an ex-girlfriend. There is an edge of danger in both the incessant ravings of the driver and the silence of the passenger.

Bench Seat is an edgy and unpredictable situation in a car when a college boy (Brett Whittingham) tries not to upset his volatile, uneducated girlfriend (Olivia Hogan) while trying to break up with her.

Perhaps the most disturbing play is Road Trip. A teenager girl (Natasha Jacobs) curls up in the passenger seat next to a man we assume to be her dad (Ron Kofler) taking her on holiday. What is revealed is far more insidious.

The performances are all skilful and the plays rivetting. Labute captures the intensity and secrets in ordinary lives.

By Kate Herbert

Angels With Dirty Faces, Feb 21, 2007

 Angels With Dirty Faces
Written by Iresha Herath with Rachel Fitzpatrick
Production by 9minds

Fairfax Studio, Victorian Arts Centre,  Wed to Sun,  to Feb 25, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

The first hour of Angels With Dirty Faces, by Iresha Herath, is a swiftly moving, funny and well-observed portrayal of teenage boys in an upmarket private school in Melbourne. 

The dialogue has the authentic tone of 16 year-old boys’ blend of arrogance, under-confidence, profanity and innuendo.

The cast of young men, directed by Morgan Dowsett, is totally at ease and credible in the first half. Toby (Andre De Vanny), the ambitious young editor of The Telegraph, the school paper, struggles to balance his assessable work with his budding journalism. He supports the reserved new boy, Jake (Hagan Matthews), who arrives mysteriously from a Sydney school.

Toby’s clan are resistant to any new blood in their group, but Toby welcomes Jake’s help to write for The Telegraph. The boys go to a Portsea holiday home to celebrate Johnno’s (Adam Lee) birthday. Aran (Deniz Akdeniz) reveals Jake’s secret to the jealous and troubled Alex (Ben Schmideg). From that point, their relationships all goes horribly wrong.

The performances of the young actors are competent despite occasional problems with audibility and articulation. Matt Boesenberg (OK) is believable as Mr. Collyer, the committed teacher and De Vanny captures the inner struggle of Toby. Matthews is more comfortable before Jake’s secret is uncovered and Schmideg makes the rather unpleasant Alex interesting.

 Nicholas O’Brien and Adam Lee are an entertaining duo of boyish rogues and find a range of emotion when their secure lives come crashing down.

Herath’s script is more successful in the first half when dealing with schoolboy pranks, smart gags and mutual ribbing. The emotional and tragic second half is far too long and has two or three false endings. Toby’s personal issues come to a head rather hurriedly and he seems to undergo a complete change of personality in his vindictive attack on Jake.

The play shifts focus from Jake to Toby finally but Jake’s issues are left a little undercooked. The play owes a debt to the movie, Dead Poets’ Society but Angels needs some editing to sort out its ending.

By Kate Herbert

Europe by Michael Gow, Feb 14, 2007

Europe by Michael Gow

 La Mama, 6.30pm Wed to Sun, Feb 14 until March 4, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on Feb 14

Michael Gow’s 1987 play, Europe, tells two fraught love stories; one is between an Australian man and an English actress, the other is about the continuing love affair that many Australians have with all things European.

The relentlessly cheerful Douglas, played with vibrating anxiety by Travis Cotton, arrives unannounced backstage at a European theatre where the brittle Barbara, played with grace and dignity by Caroline Brazier, is removing makeup and changing out of period costume. It seems she is playing Ibsen’s tragic heroine, Hedda Gabler, complete with a gunshot wound to the head.

They met a year ago during an Arts Festival in Australia and spent a week in each other’s arms - and beds.

We witness their awkward reunion. Douglas gabbles nervously about Barbara’s marvellous performance, helplessly attempting to hide his obsession with her, while Barbara politely smile like a maniac and tries to keep his hands off her.

Director, Eddy Segal, keeps Gow’s dialogue moving at the speed of a Formula One car, emphasising the anxiety underlying this uncomfortable relationship. The two babble over each other, avoiding their past and trying to mask their unease with inanities about travel, work, Europe and Australia.

The polite discomfort peaks later at Barbara’s flat. By the time Douglas leaves at midnight, Barbara is near hysterical and he is bereft.  In a café the following day, their panic turns into anger and a fierce argument ensues. Barbara urges him to leave and reveals she has a partner. He tries to rekindle their love, she resists, he insists and they continue to meet.

The foolish passion of Australian travellers for old Europe, its relics, its art and history, is satirised in Douglas. The scales fall away from his eyes as he confronts his mistakes in judgment and his relationship to Europe is also like a spurned lover. He defends Australia’s lack of history and attacks Europe’s years of bloodshed and colonial occupation.

Brazier is vivid and blazes with an inner energy as Barbara. Cotton is ebullient and childlike, switching into a rage like a child who loses his toy. They look an inapt pair of lovers but this is the point of the story. Love knows no logic so totally mismatched pair may continue to torment each other across continents or even live happily ever after.

By Kate Herbert

Chocolate Monkey, John-Paul Hussey, Feb 7, 2007

Chocolate Monkey by John-Paul Hussey
By The Amazing Business

Black Box, Victorian Arts Centre, Tues to  Sun, until Feb 7 to 18, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Chocolate Monkey is a wild journey with the ebullient John-Paul Hussey.  He leads us a merry dance, relating his experiences trying to mount a solo production and to survive heartbreak, homelessness and overeating.

The content is never the most interesting part of this show; it is, rather, Hussey’s idiosyncratic style that makes it so compelling. He is a consummate comic character actor with a rubber face and a compact, snuggly build that allows him to glide and prance around the stage like a dancer. His comic timing is impeccable as he switches physicality and accents, playing all characters and mutating at will into Sean Connery just for the heck of it.

The random collection of episodes is constructed around Hussey’s chaotic attempt to stage his one-man show, A Night of (Modern) Irish Storytelling, in an unlicensed warehouse venue in the middle of junkie-land, Smith Street in Collingwood. Some of the funniest moments are his acute observations of Rainsford, the naked experimental theatre artist who runs the studio, or “space,” as artists love to call their theatre.

His characterisations are ruthlessly accurate and include Mr. Flanagan, the feisty Irish funeral director who occupies downstairs, Peter, the swaggering Greek railway foreman and a Chinese cook in Little Bourke Street. Even when not playing specific characters, Hussey changes accent from thick Yorkshire, to upper class English and an hilarious impression of how to replicate Japanese language by simulating suffering freezing temperatures, constipation and memory loss simultaneously.

Each scene, introduced by Hussey as narrator of his own messy life story, has an accompanying scene title and a projection of a William Blake style of  black and white etching (Natalie Lowery).

Kelly Ryall’s evocative soundscape enhances the atmosphere and the lighting design (Luke Hails, Remo Vallance & Mark Benson) captures the energy and rapid movement of Hussey’s thoughts and memories.

The show has some moving and intimate moments but he finds self-deprecating comedy in most things. He tells us that he was born a day apart from his girlfriend, his “twin monkey”, with whom he fought and made up until the relationship collapsed. He reveals his pain as his weight balloons and his shock at a publicity photo portraying him as a fat pig chef.

Chocolate Monkey is a return season of the first in Hussey’s Monkey trilogy. We look forward to the third, Love Monkey.

By Kate Herbert

Court in the Act by Rod Quantock, Feb 8, 2007

Court in the Act by Rod Quantock 
Old Magistrates’ Court, Tues to Sat, Feb 8 to March 3, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on Feb 8

(See review of later production in Jan, 2011)

 

You cannot nod off in a darkened theatre during Rod Quantock’s Court in the Act. In fact, you might play a central role as Magistrate, Defence Counsel, Clerk of Courts, Defendant, witness or even court artist or reporter.

Court in the Act, playing at The Old Magistrates’ Court, is significantly more entertaining than a stand up or sketch comedy. It engages an audience in a completely different way. It compels us to think, act, make decisions and laugh out loud in a completely improvised court case, the nature of which is decided upon by the audience members.

The evening began with a tour of the Old City Watchhouse that housed Ned Kelly and Squizzy Taylor. The cellblocks are primitive, smacking of Alcatraz, each tiny cell having a solid metal door, one even boasting a padded interior.

Rod marshalled us into cells, under instructions to decide on a crime and an accused. The groups were inventive and excited and the potential crimes included performing a Mexican Wave and shooting out speed cameras. But the winner, by majority vote, was the assassination of John Howard by a CWA president at a barbecue in Euroa.

The accused, CWA president (Kaz McMahon), was nominated and we filed obediently and in anticipation into the courtroom. Rod took the role of Prosecution Counsel and a man wearing thongs, who had “a couple of years as a solicitor,” became the Judge. He was robed and wigged and looked like Santa. A bearded man became the Duty Defence Solicitor, Clerk, reporter, artist, jury and witnesses volunteered or were appointed.

The excitement rose as we sang the rousing and patriotic Under Southern Stars (lyrics by Amanda Vanstone, age six) to the tune of Land of Hope and Glory.

What followed was an hilarious and enthusiastic trial run by the audience – and Mr. Quantock, QC. The highlight was the rotund and laconic Constable Williams, whose testimony and manner was heroic and totally believable as a country copper. He was so popular he was promoted to Sergeant and then to assist the Judge on the Bench.

Evidence was presented of shotguns and rocket launchers, myopia and “unaustralian lamingtons”, hints of Mafia, lesbian lovers and Amanda Vanstone’s resentment. Finally, the jury found Ms. McMahon guilty but named a Public Holiday in her honour.

The night was vibrant and exhilarating – and tomorrow night will be completely different. Long live improvisation!

By Kate Herbert

The Nature of Things, Season 1: Relics and Time, Feb 7, 2007

The Nature of Things, Season 1: Relics and Time

by Renato Cuocolo and Roberta Bosetti

Secret Location, Tues to Sat, one hour between dusk and dawn,  Feb 7 to 25, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

A performance by Roberta Bosetti, directed by Renato Cuocolo, is unlike a theatrical event.

The relationship is intimate, the physical distance eliminated, the actor becomes an acquaintance and the audience becomes confidante or voyeur. The work is confronting for some.

Relics and Time is in a secret location: a private residence where Bosetti and Cuocolo currently reside with another couple and a child. The seven visitors arrive (one got lost and arrived late) and knock tentatively on the door.

Cuocolo greets us, ushering us into a starkly empty room to sit on hard chairs. He gives us a number, offers us wine and leaves us to watch a painstakingly slow, hand-held camera film of Roberta’s childhood home in Vercelli in the north of Italy and to listen to an hysterical Italian radio talkback program.

For some, the 25 minutes of viewing every architectural detail is excruciating and puzzling.

Roberta enters suddenly, greeting us like a gracious host and introducing herself to each individual. She muses on the frustrations of standing in queues waiting for one’s number to be called until finally, our numbers are called.

The evening proceeds gently, like a quiet night with a friend reflecting on her childhood. Roberta leads us through the house, showing us replicas of furniture from Vercelli. She introduces her housemates then tactfully closes their doors.

We wait and listen in her kitchen, sipping wine as she washes dishes and makes espresso. We are witnesses to her struggle to scour her memory for the minutiae of a particular childhood moment. She recalls a kitchen, a table, a hard chair, a green and white cotton tablecloth, her friend Jeanne, her parents, a packed suitcase, a frosty departure.

We listen intently to the evolving story, watching Roberta’s graceful movements and semi-consciously take in the details of her kitchen: running water, cook books, coffee pots, gleaming surfaces, a shifting branch outside. The green and white cloth becomes paramount, as if we have zoomed in with the camera and stuck on a particular item.

There is an ominous sense in the slow piecing together of patchy memories. We anticipate pain or sorrow but hope for joy.

Finally, at the candlelit table on the chilly patio, the entire memory is revealed and we are dismissed to wander into the darkness, musing on time and memory.

By Kate Herbert

Gay Conversion School Drop Out, Feb 1, 2007

 Gay Conversion School Drop Out 
by Anthony Menchetti, Midsumma Festival

Where and When: Bar Open, Thurs to Sat, Feb 1 to 11, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

If you are someone who believes homosexuality to be a choice rather than an inborn trait, trying to cure a gay man of his homosexuality might make sense. 

To Anthony Menchetti, a very charming, young gay man who was living in Perth, being sent by his Christian parents to a Christian Gay Conversion School was never going to make him prefer women to men. In fact, he dropped out after having a fling with the Team Leader who was immediately demoted. Conversion School was a perfect way to met gay men.

Menchetti’s stories about his evidently obsessional and seriously weird parents and his experiences at Gay Conversion School are good fodder for entertainment. Even Dr. Phil had a program on this very subject recently.

We hear the list of three causes of homosexuality (It is caused by certain kinds of relationships with people of the same sex - or people of the opposite sex!) and discover that the simple cure is to suppress one’s sexual urges. Evidently it does not work.

The stand up routine is peppered with short, uninspiring but funny songs such as I’m Gay, I’m tying to Quit and What a Funny Joke, a song about trying to cover a faux pas with humour. He sings one-line titles to sections of his life such as “Clubbing” or “Coming out,” and underscores scenes with moody keyboard music.

Menchetti’s style is gentle and non-confrontational; he simply tells his story with a few jokes. His descriptions of his now divorced parents are some of the funniest. His father surrounds his house with statues of Jesus and imports useless objects including the hammer torch for a car. His mother conducts home prayer meetings and, for a hobby, obtrusively photographs prostitutes on the street.

His period of working for the post office provides some comic material; disgruntled postal workers are always fair game. An audience member cheerfully assists Menchetti to replay scripts of the most boring and repetitive conversations about lunch in post office history.

He compares gay dating with shopping at IKEA, talks about being set up by friends with inappropriate blind dates and about the horrors of gay saunas and internet dating.

Gay Conversion School is not high camp nor is it high comedy but it is gently amusing.

By Kate Herbert

El Caballo Blanco, Jan 31, 2007

El Caballo Blanco

By Equestrian Entertainment (dinner and show)

 Burnley Oval, Melbourne, from Jan 31, 2007 (no closing date)

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

El Caballo Blanco (The White Horse) is a misnomer – not all the Spanish Horses in this show are white although all are magnificent, intelligent and strong. 

The range of horses in Rene Gasser’s equestrian feast includes the white Lippizaners, those spectacular and powerfully built white stallions with impeccable regal bearing and a deeply arched neck. These striking beasts were bred for the Arch-Duke Charles of Austro-Hungary in the 16^th century and are a cross breed of the Andalusian, favoured by European royalty, and the descendants of the horses used in Roman chariots.

These snowy beauties share the arena with the pretty, glossy, dark-coated Friesian that shares some Andalusian blood and has an extraordinarily long mane, forelock and tail. The Arabian, also historically mixed with Andalusians, is the final elegant breed and, it is said, was made by God from the wind.

The show is enthralling. The exceptional horse trainer and ringmaster, Rene Gasser, leads a team of riders as he puts the steeds through their astonishing paces on the sand-filled arena. The audience sits on four sides of the purpose-built Palacio Grande, a large marquee, and eats a delectable dinner before witnessing the incredible dexterity and athleticism of these majestic dancing stallions.

An onstage narrator provides us with the history of the stallions and we are treated to a display of training techniques as Gasser imperceptibly encourages the horses to perform complex moves including the Levade, Piaffe, Courbette and the Capriole. The last is a stunningly difficult posture with the horse rampant and kicking out with the hind legs.

These extremely sensitive and intelligent horses were originally bred for the battlefield so the Capriole was designed to scatter enemy horses.

Although the equine beasts are the stars here, the skill of the unobtrusive riders is fascinating and the Flamenco guitarist and two passionate flamenco dancers add a further artistic dimension to the evening.

Gasser’s rapport with and love for the stallions is palpable and compelling for the audience. Even those with no horse knowledge can delight in the intricate, delicate and powerful movements of the equine cast and reminisce about those childhood dreams of owning a pony.

By Kate Herbert

Her Aching Heart, Jan 25, 2007

Her Aching Heart 

by Bryony Lavery by Wishing Well Productions

La Mama, Wed to Sun, Jan 25 to Feb 11, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Her Aching Heart, by Bryony Lavery, is an historical bodice-ripper with a twist; the romantic couple, separated by social class, is two women.

 Lady Harriet Helstone (Madeleine Swain) is “wilful, spoiled and impetuous”, a, feisty, unmarried young woman riding her horse, Thunder, to hounds and living on her family property in Cornwall. Lady Harriet bullies her maid, taunts her suitors and treats the peasants as chattels.

Although just as opinionated and stubborn, Molly Penhallow (Helen Katerelos) is a tender-hearted, educated peasant girl who rescues a fox from the hunt, revives a dying bird and resuscitates a battered peasant.

Lavery’s script lacks the complexity and skill of her award-winning play, Frozen, but it is a cheerful parody of Victorian melodrama. Each scene has a title scrawled on a series of flip cards and introduced by the on-stage musician (Ben Kiley). Interwoven with the historical romance is a contemporary love story between a modern couple, also called Harriet and Molly. This story is coloured by modern and original love songs that are generally discordant with the period story.

Swain captures particularly well the histrionic acting style of the melodrama and her peasant Granny and Yokel are very funny. Her Lady Harriet is a strapping young thing and Swain revels in her egotistical posturing and her florid, poetic language.

Katerelos’ strength is in her singing but her Molly Penhallow is an effective combination of sweetness and spitfire. She does a fine rendition of a languorous ballad, Gave It Up Loving.

Director, Sarah McCusker, keeps scene changes swift by having the women changing costumes and characters on stage. The set is minimal: a rack of clothing and a framework that serves as an upright bed, various tapestries and a Christian crucifix.

The main flaw in this production and script is the awkward threading of the modern love story with the historical romance. The two modern women are reading Her Aching Heart, Lady Harriet’s story, and both act as narrators. However, their own meetings, dating, separation, jealousies and love story are not drawn in any detail so we have little attachment to them. The two styles of naturalism and melodrama do not dovetail successfully.

There are some great belly laughs, particularly from Lady Harriet’s snobbish rantings and the parody makes it a fun night’s entertainment.

By Kate Herbert

The Object of Desire, Julia Britton, Jan 24, 2007

The Object of Desire by Julia Britton

La Mama,  Wed to  Sun, Jan 24 until Feb 11, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

The Bloomsbury Group challenged artistic, literary and sexual norms in the early 20^th century England. 

Duncan Grant (Gerry Sont), the decorative artist, was purportedly adorable and charming - and homosexual. However, as was the case with many of the Bloomsbury set, he also had heterosexual relationships. He lived for most of his adult life at a country property called Charleston with Vanessa Bell (Fabienne Parr), Virginia Woolf’s (Robynne Kelly) sister, who was his lifelong companion, lover and mother of his child, Angelica.

Julia Britton’s play provides us with plenty of information about Grant’s sex life and describes many of his famous and infamous friends, sexual encounters and passions. This busy, expository style is the main flaw in the script. The characters speak in prose rather than dialogue, much of it being self-narration by Grant or pithy quotes from his associates.

Although the program states that Grant is locked in his room after Vanessa’s death remembering his past, this is unclear in the performance. Grant’s relationship with Vanessa is not the focus of the play, there are too many characters and Grant’s memories of his life are too broad and biographical. Biography rarely makes good theatre unless used selectively; a life does not have a natural dramatic arc.

Director, Robert Chuter, clutters the tiny space unnecessarily with furniture, paintings and the entire cast of eleven who remain on stage throughout. There are far too many characters so we can never attach to any individual. This is not to say that some of the people depicted are not interesting, simply that we see too little of each and too many who are extraneous to the story.

There are several good performances. Sont flutters about prettily as Grant, capturing his effete charm. Kelly is effective in a number of smaller roles, Phil Roberts plays the incorrigible Lytton Strachey with relish and Jonathan Dyer is suitably dignified as the intellectual John Maynard Keynes. Parr’s Vanessa is mild and loving but we crave more of her to understand Grant’s commitment to her and why he grieves her death.

The Object of Desire is an interesting, documentary view of Grant and his loving friends, but lacks theatricality.

By Kate Herbert

The Golem of Ruckers Hill, Jan 17 2007

The Golem of Ruckers Hill
written by Michael Camilleri, Bernard Caleo & Daniel Schlusser  
By Platform Youth Theatre

Northcote Town Hall, Wed to Sat,  until Jan  21, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on Jan 17 2007

The titular character in The Golem of Ruckers Hill, by Platform Youth Theatre, is based on the Prague Ghetto myth of the Golem, a creature conjured from the clay imbued with death and blood of Jews.

The Northcote Golem is constructed from Merri Creek mud. The play is also inspired by Code Red, the severe risk of attack by terrorists.

The cast of young performers, puppeteers and singers is totally committed to this rather bizarre idea and to the perambulatory nature of the show. We are lead by a town crier to a car park, to the ramp outside the Northcote Town Hall, to the foyer and stairs, a meeting room, through the musty old town hall and into an anteroom for the finale.

There is perhaps too much perambulating for a large audience and the show could be more effective if  30 minutes shorter.

We discover, in a meeting of Northcote’s “spiritual leaders”, that the town faces an imminent terrorist threat. The leaders are asked to offer weapons to defend the community. The Mayor (Francesco Minniti) will not agree to a safe, non-life-threatening weapon called Black Lightning, as it will use all available power and leave the community without electricity or cars.

In order to preserve Northcote’s wealth and lifestyle, the leaders decide to create from the mud a violent, supernatural creature, a Golem. He is a superhero initially, then degenerates into a skyscraper sized thug who eats citizens for breakfast.

The intention and the metaphor are not quite clear. Have we constructed a commercial or a military monster to protect our lifestyle and let it run out of control? Perhaps having three writers caused the lack of clear through line.

The show has some clever puppetry. The Golem (Rennie Watson) is a monster on stilts, wearing mud-like rags. His titanic head swallows people, including the audience. Director, Michael Camilleri, controls the audience viewpoint so that we see Golem devouring the Mayor in an upstairs window and have an eerily interrupted view of the monster being created in a smoke-filled room.

Timothy Camilleri has presence as the Rabbi, Stefania Franja is a compelling narrator and Watson sustains the stilt-walking Golem effectively.

The Golem is a grab bag of styles and concepts but provides a vehicle for young performers to strut their stuff.

By Kate Herbert

Don’s Party by David Williamson, MTC, Jan 11, 2007

Don’s Party by David Williamson
Melbourne Theatre Company

Playhouse Theatre, Victorian Arts Centre, Jan 11 to Feb 10, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on Jan 11

Don’s Party is stuffed with crass, drunken, educated yobs. 

Regrettably, these types are familiar 35 years after Williamson’s premiere in 1972. Don’s 1969 election night party begins as a tentative, chips and Twisties evening then morphs into a booze-fuelled, sex-crazed wake for the Labour Party as hopes are dashed of the Left winning the election after 20 years of Liberal government.

Williamson’s satirical style changed little over the decades and his habit of plundering the idiosyncrasies of a “tribe” for humour and pain is evident in this early play. Although, technically, the script is a bumpy ride and the characters have broad brushstrokes, the play, under Peter Evans’ direction, is outrageously funny.

Don (Steve Le Marquand), a schoolteacher, dumped his aspirations to write the great Aussie novel when he moved to the suburbs with his depressed, dissatisfied wife, Kath (Mandy McElhinney). His best mate, Mal (Christopher Pitman), a sleazy psychologist, sold out his radical politics to work as an executive head-hunter while Mal’s wife, Jenny (Alison Whyte), is jaded and fiercely upwardly mobile.

Kath’s timid, conservative voter friends, pretty Jody (Felicity Price) and her dull, accountant husband, Simon (Glenn Hazeldine), might prefer being fed to the lions to partying with these rabid Labourites.

Kerry (Anita Hegh), a pretentious artist who believes in free love, upsets her bitter and possessive dentist husband, Evan (Colin Lane). Mack (Travis McMahon), a weedy engineer, has a penchant for naughty photography and Cooley (Rhys Muldoon) is a foul-mouthed, promiscuous, boozing, sexist, incorrigible rogue who passes for a lawyer by day. Susan (Jacinta Stapleton), a part-time stripper, is his date.

The entire cast is accomplished. Muldoon is outstanding as Cooley, playing him with a blend of raffish charm and grotesque loutishness. Hazeldine is a highlight, enlivening the dowdy Simon with impeccable comic timing. Price’s flighty Jody is a gem and Whyte’s grim Jenny is a cunning contrast.

Although it looks like a period piece with Dale Ferguson’s naturalistic 60s set and costumes, not a great deal has changed in the behaviour of drunken political zealots in nearly 40 years.  Williamson paints a nasty picture of failing marriages, disappointed lovers, shattered dreams and lost hopes. Strangely, it all adds up to some great gags at the expense of everyone.

This play is from Williamson’s golden period, the early 70s and, as long as you do not crave critical social or political commentary, it is a very funny night in the theatre.

By Kate Herbert

The Wind in the Willows, Jan 9 to 27, 2007

The Wind in the Willows

Adapted from Kenneth Grahame

Botanical Gardens, Tues to Sat, Jan 9 to 27, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Sadly, The Wind in the Willows is no longer played on the banks of the Lake in the Botanical Gardens. 

Ratty used to row to shore and Otter to arrive in a wet suit out of the water. The latest starting location on the Eucalypt lawn is less magical and does not have good acoustics of the unamplified voices. The location of Toad Hall is much more effective.

A jolly Roscoe Mathers is the Head Chief Rabbit who entertains with songs and leads his band of little Rabbits, AKA the children. Kevin Hopkins is gleefully villainous as Weasel but not scary to littlies.

Ezra Bix, returning for the umpteenth time as Ratty, captures the broad comic character of the perky, boat-loving water rat. Peter Hosking plays Badger as a gruff old army General with a sleep disorder and Charlotte Strantzen is the timid Mole who has a compulsion to clean.

With Otter (James Stafford), the animal friends go on an adventure to visit the famous and very conceited Mr. Toad (Shannon Henriksson). Toad, ever the faddist, is obsessed with a stolen “Poop Poop” car the next. While Toad is in jail for stealing the car and abusing a policeman, Toad Hall is overrun by Weasel and his family.

The children, aged from toddlers to 8 or 9 years, are engaged on many levels. They love the cute characters, enjoy Mr Toad’s antics and Weasel’s naughtiness and delight in joining with the songs. They waggle their ears and wiggle their noses and sing “whispering willows”.

There are plenty of songs and silly choreography to entertain. These include The Wind in the Willows Blows, When the Toad Comes Home, the very singable Quack Quack Quackady Quack, Everybody Loves Mr. Toad and others.

Most of the kids raced off  willingly into the Wild Wood with Ratty, Mole and Badger on an energetic hunt for lost Otter, Portly.  While they were running through the trees, Head Chief Rabbit and Weasel entertained the parents with a little participation and plenty of adult gags and contemporary references such as Weasel’s unemployed cousin from Canberra, Kim Bweasley.

The show continues to work for children and the outdoor location makes The Wind in the Willows a unique experience after 20 years.

By Kate Herbert

A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Botanical Gardens, Jan 9, 2007

A Midsummer Night’s Dream 
by William Shakespeare
Australian Shakespeare Company

Where and When: Botanical Gardens Melbourne, Jan 9 to March 24, 2007

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

As happens every year, a very talented bat upstaged all the actors during A Midsummer Night’s Dream in the Botanical Gardens. He flew smack dab into the arboreal backdrop of the stage carrying a length of thick rope. Bat bondage perhaps? Lassoing possums?

The idiosyncrasies of outdoor theatre were again revealed and Batboy was incorporated without fuss into the show by the wickedly impish Brendan O’Connor as Puck.

The Dream is always the most successful of Shakespeare’s plays in the Gardens. Its light romance suits the balmy summer evenings, the eerily lit happily replicates foliage the fairy dell and the rough comedy of the Mechanicals allows for playful improvisation and audience participation. I wouldn’t recommend the Scottish Play for the great outdoors.

This season, the hilarious Ross Williams returns as Bottom the egotistical Weaver and unwitting favourite of the Fairy Queen, Titania (Terry Brabon). Phil Cameron Smith, Anthony Rive, Kathryn Tohil and Adrian Dart accompany him in the amateur dramatic antics of the Mechanicals. Their performance for the Duke (Hugh Sexton) and his wife’s (Brabon) wedding is goofy and slapstick and much of their earlier interaction is bawdy with plenty of puns on “bottom”. (“Give it a crack, Bottom!”)

Brabon and Sexton are imposing as the Fairy Queen and King, Titania and Oberon. The interplay of magical lighting on the trees and some vocal distortion as they weave their spells created an ethereal atmosphere. Three acrobatic fairies (O’Connor, Ben Leeks, Josephine Torissi) add a touch of physical enchantment.

The scenes with the lovers lost in the woods are playful but sometimes a little over-embellished with contemporary detail or exposition.

Gemma Bishop is bright and energetic as both Hermia and a wacked out, giggling fairy. Tohil is charming as the klutzy Helena and the dim-witted Snug. Rive and Cameron-Smith make the rivalry between Lysander and Demetrius a blokey battle of fisticuffs rather than wits and Rive’s girlish Thisbe is a funny drag act.

All the actors are miked, overcoming one of the nightmares of outdoor theatre – audibility. The audience is delighted, as ever, with the opportunity to be entertained on a warm night in the beautiful surroundings. It is always fun, particularly with a picnic basket and a bottle of wine.

By Kate Herbert

2006 Theatre Wrap Up, Melbourne, Dec 21, 2006

Theatre Wrap up 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

2006 was a patchy year but small shows, solos and new musicals win the accolades.

The exceptional solo performance was Jeffferson Mayes in I Am My Own Wife, playing an aged, East Berlin drag queen who survived Nazism and Stalin.

On the other end of the budget spectrum, Peter Houghton performed a parade of characters in The Pitch at La Mama. Houghton featured again as the incapacitated despot, Hamm, opposite David Tredinnick, in a grim but comical Endgame by 11^th Hour.

Tragedia Endogonidia, from Italy, was a fascinating theatrical investigation of the fragility of human existence and violence but the two productions I missed were the top of the pops for many: I La Galigo by Robert Wilson and Festen. Pity!

The Commonwealth Games Festival was a huge hit. Two compelling companies demonstrated that circus is now indistinguishable from theatre: Les Septs Doigts de la Main (Montreal) and Cirque Eloize (Paris) who poured their Rain over the Casino stage.

I missed Honour Bound about David Hicks, but two political shows grabbed me. Wages of Spin was a cunning multimedia take on Australian politics but it was Catch a Star…Falling that stole my heart. Ex-junkies, prisoners and homeless rural teens performed a musical based on their lives at risk.

Musicals made a splash and the inspired Keating - The Opera was the leader. Hugh Jackman displayed his star quality in Boy from Oz and the bold, androgenous Iota inhabited Hedwig, the transsexual drag queen in a raunchy rock musical. City of Angels, the Film Noir musical, was a happy surprise as was Women With Standards, a cabaret quartet. Tomfoolery featured the hilarious, laconic songs of Tom Lehrer but overdressed them.

Stephen Sewell’s It Just Stopped was overrated as was Tony McNamara’s The Give and Take and Melbourne Workers’ Theatre remounting of Yanagai Yanagai.

The clangers were many and varied but the Melbourne Festival dropped its bundle with dumb type, an overwhelmingly loud, pretty but emotionally bereft Japanese performance and Now That Communism is Dead… was mostly incomprehensible, loud and punishing theatrical chaos. 

But taking the cake for theatrical disaster was Vignettes and Reminiscences; if only it had called itself a parody we could have roared laughing.

By Kate Herbert

Let’s Do It! Women With Standards, Crown Casino, Dec 19, 2006

 Let’s Do It! by Women With Standards

The Palms at Crown, Tues to Sun, Dec 19 to Dec 24, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Take a night off from late night Christmas shopping and parties to see Women With Standards before they close on Christmas Eve. They are worth the trip. 

These four talented professional singers offer a startlingly entertaining and slick jazz cabaret show. Their voices blend deliciously in complex, four-part harmonies that will make your hair stand on end.

The quartet introduces innovative vocal arrangements enhanced by a tight and understated jazz trio of double bass, drums and piano. They sing jazz standards, soul numbers, medleys of sappy love ballads and the odd original song or rewritten lyrics. All are accompanied by stylish yet simple choreography.

They are good-looking, sleek, sophisticated and sassy, each having an individual style, character and personal story to tell. In the first half, they are garbed in eye-catching, jewel-coloured gowns and they open with dreamy harmonies in My Mamma Done Told Me, I’m Every Woman and Girl Talk.

They tease us with cheeky patter; “ I bet you think you’ve got us tabbed: the lesbian, the mum, the bitch and the air-head.” Well, two of these are true but these women are much more than stereotypes. I called them The Mum, The Blonde, Skinny and Spike (Naomi Eyers, Lee McAlistair, Melissa McCraig, Libby O’Donovan).

They do an exciting scat version of I Got The World On A String, a slow and sultry Che Sera Sera then a comical series of lyrics for women to live by, including Keep Young And Beautiful and Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend.

McCraig and Eyers do a cute medley of duets such as Baby It’s Cold Outside and Don’t Go Breaking My Heart. McAlistair sings a smoky-voiced Saving All My Love For You and O’Donovan belts a hot Gospel song, Are You Ready For A Miracle.

Eyers set our spines tingling with her soaring vocals in Aretha Franklin’s Respect and McCraig croons the sad ballad, What Are You Doing The Rest Of Your Life.

These women have super singing credentials, coming from The Fabulous Singlettes and other cabaret groups. The voices are phenomenally powerful and versatile and each woman is engaging. Their comic patter could do with some editing or directing but Let’s Do It! is a happy Christmas surprise package.

By Kate Herbert