Tuesday, 26 March 1996

Inja by Hildegarde, March 23, 1996


At Theatre Works until March 30, 1996
Reviewed by Kate Herbert on March 23, 1996

Folk tales and myths are the stuff on which we build a culture, raise our children and feed our common psyche.

Inja is a Bulgarian folk tale about a violent man who becomes an heroic leader of his people only to face karmic retribution for his previous sins. It is a passionate tale told through repetitive physical imagery by Hildegarde in its Australian-Bulgarian co-production under the co-directorship of David Wicks and Vaskressia Viharova.

Zarco Ouzunov's design uses matchstick screens set askew, giving us glimpses of characters from village life. Actors chant, stamp and sing resonant Bulgarian songs. We are witness to women water-carrying, bathing and mourning Inje's death and his son's childhood mutilation.
The simplicity of moving buckets of water, the stark horror of raw clay as mutilated flesh and the child-like joy of the village women playing and splashing, give this show a lyrical earthiness.

Bagryana Popov and Angela Campbell from Hildegarde perform with commitment and warmth while the Bulgarian actors were characterised by wit, charm and poignant performance.

Communication problems arise because the tale is not ours and the significant use of language is Bulgarian - a surprising choice in a bi-lingual show. This is not to suggest that a foreign language production cannot communicate volumes. The intention can be clear with foreign language or no language at all.

 Rather, the problems arise from breaking down the tale into snatches of narrative, moments which are not highlights of the story, making it too cryptic. The images are attractive but not so powerful as to compensate for the obscurity of the narrative. Perhaps having two directors with language, cultural, or theatrical differences is a tall order.

This is an interesting and evocative piece of theatre which lacks some of the usual clarity and definition of Hidegarde. See it anyway.

KATE HERBERT

Tuesday, 19 March 1996

My Father's Father, March 19, 1996


 Written by Janis Balodis
 Melbourne Theatre Company, at Fairfax Studio, until March 30, 1996

There is a company of very fine actors on stage in My Father's Father by Janis Balodis. Unfortunately, they are speaking words of clay in a text begging for a savage edit.

This is the third in Balodis' trilogy about the experience of Latvian migrants which is based on his family experience. The parents with an adult Australian-born son, return to Latvia to face their pasts.

It began on a light, accessible note but quickly lapsed into the portentous and turgid.  Relationships were contrived and narrative confused. There were occasional jokes but generally the humour was lame and almost embarrassing.  At times it collapses into near melodrama.

The script is a tangle of disorderly threads which create a messy narrative. There are too many plot lines: the family's return to Latvia, Carl's father's death, Uncle Edvards death, the ghosts of his drowned wife and her lover, Ilse and Edvards affair, Carl's sister and nephew's poverty, cousin Anita's acquisition of their land. Finally, there is the Leichhardt story.

Why Balodis has persevered with this oblique, irrelevant and incomprehensible sub-plot of the explorer's final doomed journey is a mystery. It was out of context and unsuccessful in the previous play and is completely disconnected here.

The dialogue is awkward and informational with no distinctive character voices. It became unbearably repetitive. Emotion is described and dramatic tension is completely absent.

The actors have an uphill battle with this text. Paul English makes a fine fist of the role of the son even though there is no development for him. Peter Adams is forced to play a drunken boor all night. Others have to struggle with dialogue riddled with platitudes and repetition. The whole production is static and lacking any dynamic drive. Even the design does not serve them well. These actors should be commended.

This was a very long night in the theatre.

By Kate Herbert 19 mar 1996

Stowaways by Compagnie Phillipe Genty, March 19 1996

By Compagnie Phillipe Genty

Playhouse Arts Centre Melbourne until April 6, 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert around 19 March 1996

In every production by Philippe Genty, I cannot help gaping at the sheer audacity of his illusions. It is as we are children again in state of wonder at the pleasures and miracles of this world. His Australian show, Stowaways is no exception.

The stark stage space is transformed by superb lighting design (Phillip Lethlean) and the impeccable visual images conjured up by the company under the auspice of the deity, Genty. People disappear down invisible holes in the floor, are eaten by a huge sea-brain monster or are transmogrified into cardboard cut-outs to be folded up and carried away. 

Images are mutable. As in Drifting two years ago, puppet-people are interchangeable with real people. Grotesque clowns mutate into able-bodied people, faces turn to clay, legs are ripped off, a tiny man grows like Topsy. Two puppeteers/stage hands inhabit a nether-world beneath the stage space, forcing creatures up to the surface and dragging them back down again.

Admittedly, the opening segments are so startling they are almost too consistently miraculous to beat. Stowaways is somehow less consistently powerful than previous Genty productions but no less magical.

The more lyrical section on the ocean bed, rocks and shore comprised less illusion and more dance which at least allowed me to give my gaping mouth a rest.

This Australia ensemble has an astonishing array of physical and manipulatory skills, but my eye was constantly drawn by Meredith Kitchen, dancer. She is magnetic.

There is a great joy associated with abandoning oneself to illusion and astonishment. Genty gives our child-like selves freedom to roam about in an animated world.


Tuesday, 5 March 1996

Some recommendations, March 1996

Emma: Celebrazione from Playbox Theatre, is more an event than a play with a 40-voice choir of Italian women and a warm, engaging performance from Laura Lattuada as Emma who makes us all her family as she cooks (on stage) for her daughter's wedding.

It is based on the life of Emma Ciccotosto, a post-war Italian migrant, one of the women who found themselves stranded in a strange culture.

 

Emma is truly a celebrazione of their survival. It's a great night out!

 

Kidstakes (MTC: Playhouse) is a lovely piece of 1930's Australian nostalgia. It is the first part of The Summer of the 17th Doll Trilogy and        has wonderful performances and direction.

 

Happy as Laundry, La Mama at the Courthouse is a very sweet and charming little clown duo.

Coming to Melbourne in March after The Adelaide Festival are two beauties if you like non-traditional theatre.

 

Inje by Hildegarde (At Theatreworks) is created in conjunction with actors visiting from Bulgaria and Black Sequin Dress from Playbox is directed by Jenny Kemp one of our best experimental directors.

 

If you like radio plays, listen to Radio National Sundays 3pm or nights at 9.30pm.

Berlin by Sydney Dance Company, 5 March 1996

 

Berlin by Sydney Dance Company

Comedy Theatre, Melbourne, during March 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert around 5 March 1996

 

Berlin is a stark, often overwhelmingly angst-ridden collage of choreographic scenes piercing the core of war-time Berlin.

 

Graham Murphy's latest production for Sydney Dance Company drags together the threads of brutality and tenderness which epitomise human behaviour in its most intense moments: moments such as sex and war. Murphy's choreography is gloriously imagistic, combining Grunge with class.

 

Berlin is blindingly beautiful and poignant, incorporating so many simple, evocative and unexpected physical images. I loved the unity of the show which runs 80 minutes without interval. Without being linear or literal it integrates a narrative built on characters. It utilises the characteristics of dance and its intense physicality and rigour in addition to the richness of a text-free theatricality and characterisation.

 

There are the stereotypical Berlin characters: the cabaret singer, the drag artist, but there are also the street people, the lovers, the circus performers, the tough child and his father, the waif and her mother. There is corruption, decadence, loss and confusion. The people are in pain, they are ragged, degraded, tormented and seduced by soldiers but somehow, in all this pain, they maintain some dignity which is the only way to survive.

 

All this can be done in theatre, in documentary footage on war-time Berlin but the pure passion and excitement of Murphy's choreography cannot but make it all the more confronting, desperate and challenging.

 

The musician, Max Lambert and singer Iva Davies are inserted into the design amongst the dancers and the detritus of the ravaged city.

 

The company of dancers has great skill and a rich cultural and physical diversity which gives breadth to the images. The musician, Max Lambert and singer Iva Davies are inserted into the design amongst the dancers and the detritus of the ravaged city. lambert's striking music and Davies songs are well-placed in the context both physically and emotionally.  The design by Andrew Carter is powerful and John Rayment's lighting was striking and often frightening.

 

Berlin is steeped in imagery and humanity. It is passionate, intense and speaks clearly with a physical voice. It is truly Dance Theatre.

 

By Kate Herbert

My Father's Father by Janis Balodis, 5 March 1996

 

My Father's Father by Janis Balodis

By Melbourne Theatre Company

At Fairfax Studio until March 30, 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert around 5 March 1996

 

There is a company of very fine actors on stage in My Father's Father by Janis Balodis. Unfortunately, they are speaking words of clay in a text begging for a savage edit.

 

This is the third in Balodis' trilogy about the experience of Latvian migrants which is based on his family experience. The parents with an adult Australian-born son, return to Latvia to face their pasts.

 

The script is a tangle of disorderly threads which create a messy narrative. There are too many plot lines: the family's return to Latvia, Carl's father's death, Uncle Edvard’s death, the ghosts of his drowned wife and her lover, Ilse and Edvard’s affair, Carl's sister and nephew's poverty, cousin Anita's acquisition of their land and, finally, there is the Leichhardt story.

 

Why Balodis has persevered with this oblique, irrelevant and incomprehensible sub-plot of the explorer's final doomed journey is a mystery. It was out of context and unsuccessful in the previous play and is completely disconnected here.

 

The dialogue is awkward and informational with no distinctive character voices. It became unbearably repetitive. Emotion is described and dramatic tension is completely absent.

 

It began on a light, accessible note but quickly lapsed into the portentous and turgid.  Relationships were contrived and narrative confused. There were occasional jokes but generally the humour was lame and almost embarrassing.  At times it collapses into near melodrama.

 

The actors have an uphill battle with this text. Paul English makes a fine fist of the role of the son even though there is no development for him. Peter Adams is forced to play a drunken boor all night. Others have to struggle with dialogue riddled with platitudes and repetition. The whole production is static and lacking any dynamic drive. Even the design does not serve them well. These actors should be commended.

 

This was a very long night in the theatre.

310 wods

 

Berlin by Sydney Dance Company, 5 March 1996


Comedy Theatre until March 1996
Reviewed by Kate Herbert on March 5, 1996

Berlin is a stark, often overwhelmingly angst-ridden collage of choreographic scenes piercing the core of war-time Berlin.

Graham Murphy's latest production for Sydney Dance Company drags together the threads of brutality and tenderness which epitomise human behaviour in its most intense moments: moments such as sex and war.

Berlin is blindingly beautiful and poignant, incorporating so many simple, evocative and unexpected physical images. I loved the unity of the show which runs 80 minutes without interval. Without being linear or literal, it integrates a narrative built on characters.

It utilises the characteristics of dance and its intense physicality and rigour in addition to the richness of a text-free theatricality and characterisation.

There are the stereotypical Berlin characters: the cabaret singer, the drag artist, but there are also the street people, the lovers, the circus performers, the tough child and his father, the waif and her mother.

There is corruption, decadence, loss and confusion. The people are in pain, they are ragged, degraded, tormented and seduced by soldiers but somehow, in all this pain, they maintain some dignity which is the only way to survive.

All this can be done in theatre, in documentary footage on war-time Berlin but the pure passion and excitement of Murphy's choreography cannot but make it all the more confronting, desperate and challenging.

The company of dancers has great skill and a rich cultural and physical diversity which gives breadth to the images.

Musician / Composer, Max Lambert and singer Iva Davies are inserted into the design amongst the dancers and the detritus of the ravaged city. Lambert's striking music and Davies songs are well-placed in the context both physically and emotionally. 

 The design by Andrew Carter is powerful and John Rayment's lighting was striking and often frightening.

Berlin is steeped in imagery and humanity. It is passionate, intense and speaks clearly with a physical voice. It is truly Dance Theatre.

KATE HERBERT  310 wds

Saturday, 24 February 1996

Happy as Laundry, Clown show, 24 Feb 1996

 


 by Penny Baron and Brenda Waite

At  La Mama at Courthouse until March 1996

 Reviewer: Kate Herbert, around 24 Feb 1996


There is something that cheers the heart in a simple, honest, lovable clown duo. Penny Baron and Brenda Waite are such a pair in the very sweet show, Happy as Laundry which wins awards for a wonderful title.

 

The two, directed by Kate Kantor, are warm and engaging with an intense complicity between them on stage. They develop a pair of dithering, ingenuous, characters who are bound together in their routine existence. Each day they recite their "cup of tea" liturgy, sit in the same chairs, dance the same dance, play the same games, open the same dresser drawer and cupboard door.

 

They are a dual personality until one attempt to alter the pattern, tip the balance, escape the routine, leave the fold. It smacks of those symbiotic relationships which allow neither party breathing space.

 

They set up a normal world then proceed to knock it down. The piece begins lightly then gathers momentum as the relationship intensifies and their problems arise.

 

They are akin to Beckett's Vladimir and Estragon in their simple existential dilemma. The performances are delightful with a bold physicality and classic French clown exaggeration, repetition and quirky child-like characters.

 

The performances are delightful with a bold physicality and classic French clown exaggeration, repetition and quirky child-like characters. It is a simple narrative with ripples of meaning rolling out into the big pond.

 

By KATE HERBERT

Wednesday, 21 February 1996

Emma: Celebrazione , Playbox, 21 Feb 1996

By Graham Pitts

At Playbox until March 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert, reviewed around 21 Feb 1996

 

Emma: Celebrazione, the word "celebrazione" tells all. There is singing, dancing, a wedding, cooking, eating and pure unadulterated joy on stage. When, at the finale, the real Emma Ciccotosto came on stage she was greeted not merely by a cast but by "family".

 

Laura Lattuada plays Emma with an unbeatable charm and warmth engaging an entire audience with wry glances, quips, adages and reminiscences. We become her guests, her confidantes in this lively, almost edible script by Graham Pitts.

 

Pitts' stage adaptation of Emma's life story employs a format popular over the years in community/political theatre. Characters talk directly to us in brief monologues. Pitts intercuts memories, characters from Emma's past who interrupt her cooking for her daughter's wedding and her thoughts, interject and Emma replays scenes from her past with us as her intimate companions. Emma, through her daughter's marriage, is re-framing her own hasty, shameful marriage.

 

In addition to Lattuada's tour de force as Emma, three other skilful actors help create the story. Chantal Contouri as Emma's terrifying, hyper-critical mother-in-law is riveting. Kate Jason-Ormondei embodies the generous spirit of everybody's Italian mamma and Robert Forza people's the stage with an array of rich characters but is most adorable as Emma's gambling, philandering husband.


Emma is an event, not a play. The choir, La Voce della Luna, comprising more than 40 Italian women (lead by the inimitable musical force of Kavisha Mazzella and musician John Norton) adds volume, pride and joy and a sense of community.

 

"Courage is the price life desires before you have peace." Emma's home-cooked wisdom. These women struggled in Italy then here, on isolated farms, during the war when Italians were interned, separated from families, stranded in a strange culture.

 

Emma is a celebrazione of their survival.

 

Corraggio! Fight on! As one of the songs says, "Although we are women we are not afraid. We have one big beautiful tongue with which to defend ourselves."

 

KATE HERBERT

Monday, 19 February 1996

Minties for the Tin, La Mama, 19 FEb 1996

 

 by Alex Nicholl

La Mama at Courthouse until March, 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert, reviewed around 19 Feb 1996

 

Re-visiting our earthy, Anglo-Celt, inner-urban roots is a popular practice for local writers. Minties for the Tin by Alex Nicholl is an example of such nostalgia. Ex-jockey and bookie, Mick (Jim Daly) updates a betting scam to teach his grabby investment adviser son, Peter

( Adam May) a lesson in greed.

 

Mick is played with intelligence, warmth and humour by Jim Daly, an actor who should have been grabbed by mainstage companies long ago. It is the scenes between spivvy, seductive Mick and his loyal, slow-moving mate, Dadda (played laconically by John Flaus) which are the centre of the piece.

 

The matiness and sheer boldness of the old geezers is delightful as Mick schemes to win enough for "fruit for the sideboard" and "Minties for the tin". "There's never been a time when greed was out of fashion," says Mick.

 

The script fails in the writing of the two younger characters and the problems are exacerbated by some uncomfortable over-acting by the two actors. One quickly tires of the boorish Peter's relentless, sneering swagger and of the over-stated seductiveness of Gai (Catherine Purling), his partner in greed. The two shout and snipe at each other non-stop.

 

The play runs 100 minutes but really only began an hour in when the betting scam took off. The direction was pedestrian with too many, too slow scene changes. It is, however, worth having a gander at the old blokes if you have a dad or grandad of this generation.

 

KATE HERBERT


Wednesday, 14 February 1996

Kidstakes by Ray Lawler, 14 Feb 1996

 

Kidstakes by Ray Lawler

By Melbourne Theatre Company (MTC)

 Playhouse, Arts Centre Melbourne, until March 16, 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert, (reviewed around 14 Feb 1996)

 

If you are familiar with the story of The Summer of the 17th Doll, you'll know that it all ends unhappily ever after seventeen summers of blissful romance. In Kidstakes, the joyful start to the affairs is all the more poignant knowing they are doomed.

 

In 1937 the seventeenth year, summer-only relationships (perhaps a good idea??) between Olive and Roo, Nance and Barney began. Nance (Rosalind Hammond) is smart and ever the pragmatist. She knows the score and finally "marries out" after seventeen seasons. 

 

Neither Barney (Travis McMahon), a perky, unscrupulous and blindingly stupid canecutter, nor his faithful and honest mate, Roo (Andrew Blackman) are "prepared to chew the chain" of matrimony. Olive (Frances O'Connor) takes a chance on romance.

[1]ƒ

She just wants what they've had this summer. "Marriage is not the only thing". Her solution is to " stand back and let 'em go", like the bee which five-year old Bubba traps in the hollyhock. They were out of their time knowing, even then, there are a thousand ways to have a relationship. They were fringe-dwellers on the moral constraints of their society - and perhaps too idealistic. They did not count on ageing and fear and change.

 

This is a beautifully realised production directed by Robin Nevin with sensitivity, subtlety and intense detail.  This whole talented ensemble expresses a rare warmth and generosity.  They look after the story, they look after each other and the show looks after itself.

 

Dickie Pouncett, (Aaron Blabey) Olive's dorky and insidiously ordinary love-lorn suitor, represents all that is suburban, domestic and repellent to all four lovers (and us?). Olive's mum, Emma (Sue Jones) is trapped in the post-depression fear of poverty and lost reputation. She is "never pleased by anything".

 

Tony Tripp's evocative period set from The Doll has a reprise in this production and Max Lambert's delicate piano over-scored with blues and swing numbers, emphasises the fragility of the emotional score.

 

This is a story of hope, love and passion not left to perish through fear or conservatism. It is deeply sad knowing its fate.

 

KATE HERBERT

Wednesday, 7 February 1996

In A Nutshell, La Mama Theatre, 7 Feb 1996

By Four Four on the Floor

At La Mama, Carlton until Feb 18, 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert.  Reviewed around 7 Feb 1996

 

Watching In A Nutshell is like crawling inside four heads and hearing their most peculiar, wicked, innermost thoughts.

 

We are observing that mind-demon who tells us to do the exciting, outrageous and dangerous things. It is the voice that says, "Kiss that person walking by " or "Jump off this cliff. Kill yourself. You know you want to."

 

It can be a lifesaver (the 20's swimwear is gorgeous) reviving us from coma, collapse, boredom, depression.  Or it can be a killer.

 

This piece has a subtle dynamic and a simple, clear message. It is hilarious with lovely chorus clown work, energetic physicality and a warmth which makes you want to obey the "kiss a stranger" voice in your head.

 

Each actor is allowed to obsess a while in this piece devised by the four actors (Charlie Laidlaw, Rosina Ganon, Georgia Power, Kim Wilson) with director Greg Dyson.

 

 Charlie Laidlaw's musings on a new mother's depression were made even more poignant by her own blossoming pregnancy. Kim Wilson's rambling obsession with ants and the universe was an eccentric moment.

 

Several a cappella songs were highlights and there were few loose spots in this charming show. It has joy, warmth, honesty and skill. It is really a good show!

 

By Kate Herbert

Shades of Blue by Andrew Bovell , 7 Feb 1996

 

Shades of Blue by Andrew Bovell

At La Mama until Feb 18, 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert.  Reviewed around 7 Feb 1996

 

Stare too long at human interaction and you will feel a profound sense of its strangeness and absurdity. This is Andrew Bovell's obsession in Shades of Blue at La Mama.

 

Conversations occur in parallel lines, dialogues overlap, characters interrupt, ignore and obsess. They rarely actually listen or pay attention to real meaning or heart-felt expressions of anguish.

 

Bovell's script has biting cynicism, charmingly wry juxtaposition of dialogue and thought, witty word plays and slips of tongue and acute, icy observations of behaviour and language. Characters are quirky, brittle and vulnerable. We see the confusing intersections of diverse, lonely existences, of those left on the scrap heap.

Director, Tom Gutteridge, has heightened the sense of alienation, making characters stroll physically through others' lives, unconscious of repercussions, unconscious even of people in their orbit.

 

The ensemble of eight is strong. Heather Bolton is warm and despairing as Nancy, the tacky club singer whose self-esteem is built precariously on having been on Ray Martin. David Pidd as her transvestite fan is a fragile character. The two have sweet, warm singing voices.

 

There is a fake Salvo (Angela Campbell), A disfigured landlord (Bob Pavlich), an abandoned husband (Humphrey Bower), an unemployed country boy (Peter Houghton)and a  loveless policewoman (Maria Theodorakis). The thread which pulls them together is a gold crucifix.

 

Shades of Blue is a hope-free and joyless world of misfits who know life never deals you what you want. The play sings The Blues, but it also cries out, "Try a Little Tenderness" (music by Wade Beed). There was pathos in these fringe dwellers in the land of domestic bliss but when the single ray of hope was snatched from the characters' grasp it became irrevocably, tragedy.

 

By Kate Herbert 290wds

Sunday, 4 February 1996

Poles Apart: 5 short plays, La Mama, 4 Feb 1996

Poles Apart: 5 short plays

At La Mama until March 3, 1996

Reviewer: Kate Hebert on around 4 Feb 1996

 

Of the five short plays in Poles Apart the first, Trapped, is the best.

 

is the best by a long stretch. Not the least of its assets is a crisp, smart script by Trudy Hellier, known from Frontline TV comedy, with a terrific central idea.

 

Two women live in a house next to Pentridge. two cell mates fall in love with one each of the women and take turns to lit each other to girl-viewing level to peer through the bars.

 

Matt Cameron's direction is rapid and earthy. The two men particularly are realised beautifully in the pithy, realistic writing and in exceptional performances by Patrick Moffatt and Marcus Eyre. The women are a little less clearly drawn in character and action but Hellier, who performs in this and several other plays, and Anita Cerdic, do a sound job. The twist at the end does not quite come off but it is a terrific first play.

 

Familiarity Breeds, the final piece, is an absurdist trip into existential crisis. Shane Luther's writing has its moments.

 

The other three pieces are unremarkable.

 

Acqua Lupus (James Benedick) is a wordy sea-faring tale in a pseudo-Victorian ballad form.  The Skipping Girl, a first play for Charles Lane leaves its intention and relationship unclear and Petronella's Mark (Johann McIntyre) is relatively unsuccessful poetic grunge.

 

But I must tell you, it is really worth the visit to see Trapped.


Saturday, 27 January 1996

The Sun Also Sizzles, 27 Jan 1996

 

Written by Sarah Vincent

At The Continental Cafe for Midsumma Festival, Jan 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert - reviewed around 26 Jan 1996

"It costs a lot to look this cheap!" - most quotable comment on the hot new all-gay soap opera, The Sun Also Sizzles, on at The Continental Cafe for Midsumma Festival.

Sizzle, as it is fondly called, is Dynasty meets Julian Clary. It is set in a town where everybody is gay, everybody loves somebody who loves somebody else, they all have a dark secret and talk in platitudes spiced with meaningful gazes.

They posture, hunt for the spotlight, make fabulous entrances, melodramatic exits and speak monologues direct to "camera".

Writer, Sarah Vincent, writes a great gag and director, Sioban Tuke, knows how to stage them.

In Sun Valley there's a drag queen, her sister the leather-clad cop, an ex-nun she loves, the rich bitch she loves, a hunky orphan who never does his shirt up, a scientist who's an alien, a nice-as-pie doctor with a broken heart and a dirt-diggin', scum-bag journo. Oh, and an unknown poisoner. They're dropping like flies. Just like Neighbours really!

The crowd (standing room only on opening) roared, cheered and hooted at lines like "You're a rough diamond Trix – or should I say 'diamante'?" Or at Dr. Ken whose lover left him for a woman. "I like women but... it's just (gasp)...not natural (splutter).

Go see it. You get a re-cap of the story each week. It's a scream - and it's Pure Trash.

By Kate Herbert

Thursday, 25 January 1996

Leonardo's Last Supper, 25 Jan 1996

 

Written by Peter Barnes

By Millstone Theatre Company at Budinski's Fitzroy in Jan-Feb 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert, reviewed around 25 Jan 1996

 

Remember Peter O'Toole draped comico-tragically on a crucifix? That was written by Peter Barnes who also wrote Leonardo's Last Supper.

 

The black comic elements are also in Leonardo, a short farce written in 1969 about the resurrection of Da Vinci in the workshop of a poor French family of Renaissance undertakers: the stuff of good slapstick.

 

Although this is not Barnes' best work, he has written some evocative text about 15th century Europe: the plague, the art, the poverty, the merchants. The resurrection of Leonardo could be surprising and hilarious, his recollections of his unfinished works comic-tragic. The relationships between the grotesque and avaricious members of the family have the potential for great slapstick.

 

Millstone Theatre is a group of Ballarat Uni graduates starting a new company. I wish them luck, but this production has not hit the mark. These actors are so tense it made me anxious, their comedy is forced, they labour the language, over-state the English accents and leave gaping holes and the pace was erratic.

 

Commedia dell’Arte requires impeccable clowning and comic timing which is not evident in the show. The English accents were distracting and, in one case, incomprehensible.

 

This company needs a strong director.

 

By Kate Herbert


Wednesday, 17 January 1996

Private Lives , MTC, 17 Jan 1996

by Noel Coward

Melbourne theatre Company

At Fairfax Studio until 17 Feb 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert, reviewed around 17 Jan 1996

 

Aah, how terribly, terribly gay, how simply darling, how arch and sublimely droll is Private Lives, Noel Coward's wicked play from the naughty 30's just after the decadent 20's in which he was so - well, so wicked.

 

Coward was not merely a playwright. He was a personality, and he is written all over the role of the caddish rake, Elyot (NB pretentious "y") Chase played with tongue firmly in cheek by Louis Fiander.

 

Chase, with his pretty silly young bride are on honeymoon when he almost falls over his also honey-mooning ex-wife, Amanda (Pamela Rabe) who is still evidently the most "thrilling, exciting woman" he has ever met. Needless to say, they run away together. Appalling behaviour but a great recipe for farce.

 

Coward would be writing for Denton if alive now. His plays may be museum pieces, but he writes a mean gag and, in the hands of Fiander and the provocative and hilarious Rabe, he comes alive.

 

Rabe as the emotional ping-pong Amanda, shifts effortlessly between lusty hilarity, poignant love and shrewishness.

 

 Tammy McCarthy and William McInnes, as the abandoned spouses, are superb supports. McCarthy does a charming line in brisk and dippy while McInnes is adorable as the proper but goofy, stiff-upper-lipped Brit.

 

It wouldn't be Coward without some gloriously decadent Deco Paris apartment nor a few luxurious gowns and Shaun Gurton's design and Vanessa Leyonhjelm's frocks are "incredible" (with a French accent).

 

Director, Roger Hodgman, has produced perfect Summer fluff. It moves at a brisk pace except for a slow patch in Act Two but the final battle royal is worth the waiting. There are touches of post-20s sexual politics. The two may be "liberated" but Chase whacks Amanda on the odd occasion. How did they get away with a line like, "Certain women should be struck regularly like gongs."

 

The show is perfect Summer fluff. It moves at a brisk pace except for a slow patch in Act Two but their final battle royal is worth the wait. There are touches of post-20s sexual politics. The two may be "liberated" but Chase whacks Amanda on the odd occasion. How did they get away with a line like, "Certain women should be struck regularly like gongs."


Splendid's, Genet, 17 Jan 1996

Bby Jean Genet 

By Roof Top Productions

At Mietta's Landing Jan-Feb 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert, reviewed around 17 Jan 1996

 

The production of Jean Genet's lost play, Splendid’s, has been promoted as confronting theatre. Unfortunately, it is just a lot of boys in suits shouting. I thought I was inside Killing Zoe.

 

This version of Splendid’s, Roof Top Productions fourth show, is cleverly located on the littered landing at Mietta's. The location is saddened by the detritus not only of the set but of the Mietta's memorabilia price tagged below.

 

Seven gangsters have taken and killed a female hostage in the Grand Hotel, Splendid's. The group haggles for power, struggles for recognition and finally implodes. With all the posturing, yelling and face-pulling poorly derivative of Scorsese, it is difficult to discern the quality of the text but this is definitely B-grade Genet.

 

There is no dynamic range in this production. They start shouting and have nowhere to go but louder. Genet's characteristic violence intercut with lyricism is muddied. The poetic becomes leaden. Characters have "solos" much in the way of a Jazz score but all the characters, apart from the drag queen, become a melange of De Niro, Liotta and Tommy Lee Jones.

 

"Let's save the deaths for the ending," quips a character early on. This Genet irony is lost in a production which takes itself rather too seriously. I thought it interesting to note that the program listed every actor's agent but not the character he played.

 

KATE HERBERT

 

230 wd

Thursday, 14 December 1995

Script review of No Strings Attached by Hilary Beaton- Review by Kate Herbert 14 Dec 1995

 

Script review

No Strings Attached by Hilary Beaton

Playlab Press Brisbane 1994

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

 

Hilary Beaton is well-known for her scripts for young people's theatre in both New Zealand and Australia.

No Strings Attached reverberates with 80's community and youth productions which had an almost formulaic structure. Take an issue, simplify it, draw an analogy, limit characters for small company budgets, make it physical.

 

The play is neither clearly character-driven nor plot-driven. Being based in the imagery of skydiving, it is inevitably very physical. The text relies heavily on the direction and performances for its ultimate success or failure on stage. Its style moves between the naturalistic and the dream state of Clare's memory or reverie, between past adn present. This is not a literary script but rather a vehicle for physicality on stage which makes it is nigh impossible to assess on paper.

 

 Clare, Maxine and Joycie, members of a champion sky-diving team in their youth, reunite to train for a spectacular one-off dive to celebrate the marriage of Desiree, their fourth team-member. The three meet at intervals for the weeks before the wedding, deciding on moves, costumes, publicity, sponsorship, discuss old times, old jumps. They haggle and bicker, returning to much worn behaviour patterns as soon as they meet. Essentially, nobody has changed.

 

Beaton draws parrallels between the evolution of the women's movement and team free-falling. Some comparisons effectively elaborate on issues, but many connections are tenuous, brittle or thin. As a result of feminism and its demands on the New Woman, women in the 60's and 70's had to throw themselves headlong into their new roles, taking enormous risks with work and personal lives.

 

 This is Beaton's initial parallel. Women were forced, during "those heady days of sisterhood", into what could now be seen to be artificial bonding. They were expected to be a community, to band together and support each other despite radical differences in interests, temperament, education and social status. Here we encounter Beaton's second parallel. These three vastly differing women came together to dive, stayed to be the first team of women to win a National Championship then fell apart when one member abandoned them to go in search of herself in India.

 

The play deals with middle-class feminism which is a composite of corporate and alternative culture. The diving metaphor applies to risk- taking, to trying new challenges. Here lies the third parallel. These women dived into difficult terrain in the 70's. Clare leapt into writing self-help books, made enormous amounts of cash and became "supermarket famous". She is not, however, in control of her emotional life. The hard-nosed Joycie, gabbles about money and sex in the same breath, started her own sporting wear design label but has no personal life. These two are examples of the women who concentrated on work and abandoned the personal working through sisterhood but never grappled effectively with relationships with men. It becomes clear that they did not succeed with women either. The play almost celebrates bad behaviour and proves that feminism did not necessarily produce women  who were more mature. These women have not even overcome the childish and sometimes offensive "tampon joke" style of women's comedy in the 80's. The team stil calls itself "The Carefrees".

 

The three seem to have maintained the more unpleasant characteristics of the 70's movement. Joycie is ambitious, ruthless, selfish, devious, untrustworthy, demanding, loud and funny, volatile and temperamental. Her generally unexpurgated language is sometimes automatic, at others it is a childish ploy to shock. She is brassy, defensive, outwardly independent but innately needy and dependent on others' advice and care.  She is unable to form lasting relationships, is sexually dysfunctional or confused; her grief at the loss of the friendship when Max became a lesbian could herald a latent homosexuality or it may simply indicate neediness.

 

Maxine is simple, dogged, organised to a fault, reliable, annoying in her need for routine, unadventurous except in her diving, conservative even in her lesbianism and suburban in her lifestyle described by Joycie as being like "cows with full udders". She could be a leader, a motivator if she were not so tactless, unadventurous, persistent, demanding and over-sensitive.

 

Clare is the central character. She has achieved in business the success she could not achieve in diving. She is superior, articulate, cool and business-like, reserved with her emotions, versed in the New Age language of communication about which she writes in her self-help manual. Ironically, writing  in her ivory tower has left her ill-equipped to deal with her irrational  and demanding friends and unable to cope with the real world. She is personally powerful but not a risk -taker which belies her role as advisor to the cowardly.

 

The structure of the play and its reliance on flashbacks to demonstrate the original relationships between the three, leaves them unsatisfyingly shallow and two-dimensional. Each character seems to have a very limited repertoire of personal traits and dialogue. They never develop. No depth is revealed, no layers peeled away. There is a repetitive quality to their interactions. They seem to say the same things over and over. Nobody breaks role. Nobody is changed. What they were in the 70's they remain.

 

Their common past is revealed in a slow drip of information. Beaton weaves details of their present lives into the narrative at each of their intermittent meetings. These women are unscrupulous and, without the charm of villainy, they become eminently dislikeable. Joycie, seeking international recognition for her women's sporting outfit designs, visits New York to meet a major designer.

 

In a too-lengthy monologue, Joyce tells a barely credible tale of woe about how she made a fatal error in using Carl Wasserstein's name to wriggle out of a shop-lifting charge. He calls her "full of shit!" and all her dreams of international success are shattered. It seemed well-deserved. Maxine lobbies and manipulates Clare for $10,000 ostensibly for sponsorship but actually to rescue her poverty-stricken relationship. Clare, famous for diving analogies in titles: Pull the Ripcord on Anger and Canopy of Love, is now writing a book exploiting their reunion and her return to sky-diving.

 

 

The dialogue seems to undercut any serious intention of this play. It is oddly placed and uncomfortable as if it had been constructed then slotted into scenes. When covering character names on the left of the page I expect to differentiate voices. These become a single voice, often glib and predictable, riddled with platitudes. It smacks of arch, smart-arse women.

 

Joycie Is it lonely at the top?

Clare    I've become bitter and twisted - a bit like expensive marmalade.

Joycie  C.mon. You're holding out on me. Are you bonking?

Clare    Just the same!

Joycie Are you in love?

Clare    Not so much in love as in limbo.

Joycie I'm like that. I have to keeep a man in my head so I remember to   change my underwear. No-one special?

Clare    I am a happily unmarried woman.

Joycie  Moi aussi. Remember when sex was safe and sky diving was dangerous? These days, sky diving is very very safe.ˇ

 

Clare owed her life to Desiree who saved her when she knocked herself unconscious on a jump. This accident was the downfall of the group the team the friendships. It is a parallel to the kind of crisis which tears people apart socially. One sleeps with another's lover, one borrows money, betrays a secret or trust. The relationships never recover. Clare remembered only the positive when she decided to bring the team together for the wedding. She wanted a ritual ending a re-joining, "a linked exit".

 

 Here is the final parallel between diving and the intense and fraught relationships of these three women.  There is much more to be confronted about the condition of the post-feminist women nearing middle-age. The complexity of their predicament is dealt with superficially and the diving metaphor becomes laboured and obscured.

 

Although the first act of the play had a run in first in Auckland in September 1988, the play, directed by Sue Rider, premiered at La Boite in Brisbane on September 8, 1994. Rider describes a lengthy collaborative process with the writer which included script development workshops with several Brisbane companies: Playworks, National Playwrights' Centre, Playlab, Brisbane Theatre Company. Grants from the Literature Board of the Australia Council and New Zealand Literary Fund also fed the re-drafting process. This was not a play written in isolation. Its evolution echoes the teamwork involved in its topic: the art of formation skydiving.

 

These women have abandoned all relationship to the community, sharing ethic of early third wave feminism and have degenerated into the "me" ethic of the 80's and 90's.  They exploit their friends, betray their lovers, demand financial and emotional support rather than earn it. They are a singularly dislikeable group of ego-centric users who represent few positive feminist values. Maxine was the only one who stayed with diving, its associated teamwork and analogous feminism. Max chose to dive into sisterhood, demanded high standards of her teammates and stayed to run the organisation and be the champion of feminism. She stuck with women and became a lesbian. Her lover, Chris, is named but remains archly ungendered for most of the play.

 

KATE HERBERT

Playwright, director, theatre critic, lecturer in Drama at Northern Melbourne College of TAFE.

 

1975 words

 

 

La Maladie de la Mort and The Atlantic Man, Duras, 14 Dec 1996

 

La Maladie de la Mort (L'amour) and The Atlantic Man, by Marguerite Duras

At La Mama until March 19, 1996

Reviewer: Kate Herbert, reviewed around 14 Dec 1995 for The Melbourne Times

 

Marguerite Duras' prose has a way of penetrating to the very bone by an unobtrusive and mysterious path. In Laurence Strangio's production of La Maladie de la Mort (The Malady of Death), a Man (Robert Meldrum) pays a prostitute (Margaret Mills) for several consecutive nights of sex.

 

There is a gasping pain in the sterile emotional isolation of the Man who pays for the woman's body only, for the woman as object. He is confused and terrified to discover it coming to life and perhaps love? before his previously unfeeling, unobservant eyes.  She, the potential victim, sees that he suffers from the maladie de la mort / l'amour. The French pun has a dreadful, poignant quality.  When he begins to feel, he wants to kill her.

 

It is the story of his brush with intimacy. "The marvellous impossibility of reaching her through the difference that separates you." There is a delicacy in rendering this piece. It's beauty resides in its use of paradox: the two characters are icy but sexual, vulnerable and yet hard. It is a study in passionate passionlessness. She is vulnerable physically, he emotionally.

 

Both performers have a chilling and unpredictable quality. Meldrum is warm in his coldness, his rich, sensual, mellow tones blending with the seascape-soundscape. Mills is enigmatic and magnetic.

 

Strangio has taken the undramatised prose (which Duras herself had failed to dramatise) and has heightened the dramatic tension by treating almost as a simultaneous self-narration. Meldrum reads his text which adds to the character's detachment. The characters' physical distance and frozen communication and the cool blandness of wall-to-wall sand, all exaggerate the man's alienation.

 

The second shorter Duras, The Atlantic Man, is less successful as a dramatic text which is no fault of the director nor the actor, Brenda Palmer. It's prose is more fragmented and less clear with little intrinsic dramatic tension. It looks at both the failures of cinema to touch humanity and parallel images of the end of a romance and the detachment. The use of an empty film projector running in the background and Phil McLeod's accompanying improvised cello music are both simple and effective but the text (not the production) is unimpressive theatre.

 

KATE HERBERT