Australian National Playwrights' Conference 1998 -May 18, 1998

Australian National Playwrights' Conference

 Canberra

 1998 April 12 -26, 1998

 Reviewed on May 8, 1998 by Kate Herbert

It is bitterly disappointing to discover that you have been at the only Australian National Playwrights' Conference that has not had a memorable squabble. 

The April 1998 event in tidy and uninspired Canberra was a very tame affair compared to previous years in which the summing-up sessions, forums and dinners often deteriorated into a bun-fight. One young writer admitted demanding that Stephen Sewell and all the other domineering 'oldies' be pushed off in a boat.

Questions were, however, being raised in corners under cover of darkness and influence of red wine, about the direction the conference is taking. These included queries about a lack of consultation on the plays selected, the appropriateness of programming of incomplete scripts, the wisdom of selections based on regionalism or multiculturalism and the insufficient formal feed-back for the playwrights.

Previous years were more of a showcase for scripts that were in an advanced stage of development show promise or were by major playwrights who were commissioned by main stage companies. Each play is presented at the end of the fortnight as a rehearsed reading having been tweaked and re-written during the process of development with actors, director and a dramaturg to make suggestions for development of text.

Most years, at least one or two plays have subsequently been staged by a major organisation. This year demonstrates a new position that has its own problems.

Nine writers were selected in 1998. This year, several incomplete scripts were to be developed during, rather than before the conference. According to a visiting Australia Council representative, script development is a priority of the Literature Board.

Owen Love, an aboriginal writer (South Australia), came with a pile of research and a good idea about an aboriginal activist in the 60's. 

John Marshall's (Wagga Wagga) The Art of Straying was selected, but he and director Neil Armfield, switched trains on day two to work on a first draft of a wacky little farce.

Jill Shearer, the Brisbane playwright who wrote the very successful Shamada that went to Broadway, brought her prize-winning play Georgia about US painter, Georgia O'Keefe. It was re-worked but only the first act presented. 21 year-old Suneeta Peres da Costa presented a 10-minute radio play and an excerpt from a play in progress. Susan Rogers, a visual artist who, like da Costa, writes in prose-poetic form, arrived with a trilogy and left with a duology.

Sydney-based Australian-Vietnamese writer, Duong Le Quy, was the only writer who came with a completed written script that was rehearsed and presented in full to an audience of peers.

The marvellous and successful exception to the norm was Crying in Public Places, a group of four Melbourne women actor-singers who worked with dramaturg, John Romeril. This was a first for the conference. Group written work has not been part of its brief but so much of our theatre is now developed with ensembles or with an auteur-director, it would be a mistake not to define this as a contemporary play writing method.

Some clandestine queries pertained to the efficiency of play selection. Why have an aboriginal consultant on the board of directors (Noel Tovey) if he is not to be consulted on selection of appropriate indigenous material for development? Why does one need actors for unfinished or unwritten scripts? Would it not be more efficient to provide script development money for a writer to complete a draft before expecting actors to rehearse it? Of course, there will always be changes to text in rehearsal or script workshopping, but actors need to brought in at an advanced stage of writing.

Forums were productive with guests from Australia, Japan, USA and India haggled over writers' issues. But, unlike the Melbourne Playwrights' Conference, no resolution for political action was proposed. There is no formal forum for post-presentation feedback for writers and, although there is a Studio for new writers, there is no provision for experienced writers, other than the core nine, to develop work.

The conference is limited in the number of playwrights it serves. Perhaps more could be made of its national status and activities provided to encourage more middle-upper level writers to attend.

Perhaps playwrights and actors are all too accustomed to bad food and boarding school accommodation. Even this combined with the bland and bureaucratic capital city., were insufficient to stifle the muse. Writers still tapped away till the wee hours and actors kept on performing up until the traditional, last night satirical cabaret. Wish we'd seen a bun-fight though!

By Kate Herbert

Bonehead by Chunky Move, May, 1998

Bonehead by Chunky Move 

Merlin Theatre Malthouse until May 30, 1998

NB This review was published in The Melbourne Times in 1998

You can bet Luke Smiles felt a bit of a bonehead when he tore his metamucil-something ligament four hours before the opening night of Bonehead last Wednesday. But heck, nothing was going to stop Artistic Director Gideon Oberzanek launching Victoria's new contemporary dance company, Chunky Move.

In a courageous and very successful last minute dash, he selected three fragments of Bonehead: Nightmare, Soap and another, and presented an edited highlights show. Oberzanek introduced segments and with Byron Perry and newcomer David Tyndall danced Smiles'  roles.

Chunky Move is known for its innovation and fresh energy but this takes the cake. This season is a reworking of the company's original narrative-based show  but not even the ever-inventive Oberzanek could have anticipated this kind of restructure. It was exciting to see how he solved the problem.

[1]y

His choreography is characteristically rigorous, vigorous and punishing. The distortion and contortion of bodies celebrates the ugly made beautiful. As Jeff Kennett said in his speech to launch the company, the work is always "provocative, innovative, daring and very, very physical." These bods are toned. Have you ever seen women with six-pack stomach muscles?

Nightmare is just that: a scary dream sequence. Women in underwear are tossed about like baggage and abused. A bizarre Frankenfurter creature of the night prowls about draped in fairy lights carrying a lamp perched over his head. Two men wrestle.  This is Punky Move.

†

Soap is a wildly funny comic book routine complete with "Thwack, Blam" foley effects and a remote-controlled knife-weilding Go-Go dancer. The soundscape by Supersonic is a knock-out. The last piece contains a graphic, often violent struggle between a man and woman to an almost pop sound track. This is Funky Move.

It was a treat to see this bare bones Bonehead. I'm looking forward to more.

KATE HERBERT 

---

Who's Afraid of the Working Class? May 1, 1998

Who's Afraid of the Working Class? written by Andrew Bovell, Christos Tsiolkas, Melissa Reeves, Patricia Cornelius

Melbourne Workers' Theatre

Trades Hall Theatre until May 23, 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert on or around April 30, 1998

In an era when our definition of 'neighbours' is a television soap, a play about human isolation, self-absorption and the loss of community support is a tragic indictment of our system. The disintegration of the family and the 'every man for himself' behaviour has all but decimated our sense of community.

Who's Afraid of the Working Class? is a grim portrayal of contemporary urban life. It comprises a collage of loosely connected stories by four commissioned writers (Andrew Bovell, Christos Tsiolkas, Melissa Reeves, Patricia Cornelius) for Melbourne Workers' Theatre.

Of the 18 characters only four have jobs: two police, one prostitute and an insurance salesman. It might better be called Who's Afraid of the Workless Class?

MWT has generally developed light, funny, brazen shows that celebrate adversity with music and satire. In this moving and provocative production, there are laughs and music but the writers work on common themes about the disenfranchised underclass created by insensitive government policies and shrinking job market

We witness a desperate family who steal from each other and have secret lives.(Money: Cornelius) Two child runaways, whose mother has endangered their lives in order to keep her abusive boyfriend feature (Trash: Bovell). Two teenage of migrant families disguise themselves as private school girls to shoplift glitzy dresses. (Dreamtown: Reeves)

The most disturbing and potentially offensive characters are from Tsiolkas, a novelist now writing for theatre. The show opens with another grotesque monologue by a youth who has obsessive sexual fantasies about Jeff Kennett. (Bruce Morgan) Tsiolkas defies political correctness, making an aboriginal salesman the racist. (Glen Shea)

The writing is rich, provocative and often poignant and the splendid ensemble plunge into the emotional pond with commitment. As Reeves' shoplifters Daniela Farinacci, Maria Theodorakis are hilarious. As Bovell's runaways Farinacci and Morgan are a sweet and doomed pair of step-siblings yearning for a loving home.

Theodorakis, as the fraught mother, provides a bitter-sweet monologue about caring for a dying man. A cameo highlight was David Adamson as Reeves' pathological radio caller.

Director, Julian Meyrick has skilfully interwoven 21/2 hours of engrossing material with stylish cross-overs and swift scene changes. To suggest some editing would be picky. The whole is enhanced by discreet  lighting (Paul Jackson), simple design (Greg Clarke) and evocative music  by Irene Vela played by double bassist and cellist. This really is a fine and challenging work from the working class.

KATE HERBERT

Miracles by Tobsha Learner, April 29, 1998

Miracles by Tobsha Learner

Playbox until May 2, 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert on or around April 28, 1998

We have no Aesop but we live in a time that cries out for contemporary fables. We must leave it to our novelists, filmmakers and playwrights. Such is the style of Tobsha Learner's latest play, Miracles.

Learner draws her characters with broad comic strokes as stereotypes. Trinity Supermarket, a Flemington family business, is stocked with as colourful a range of people as the goods going out of date on its shelves. Ida (Heather Bolton) is a brassy shop-owner whose husband Clive (Greg Stone) is a dodgy small-time crook and gambler. Sparks (Sophie Lee) is a tacky, loud-mouthed checkout chick.

The feature act is the virtuously named Immaculata (Laura Lattuada). She has worked the cash register for 20 years without complaint about her oppressive Italian father, Irish priest, Aussie bosses or Catholic God who seems to have abandoned her.

This is Immaculata's journey from excruciatingly shy, illiterate cripple to star status as a miracle worker. She has a visitation from God (or Mary) who appears to her in a cash register and gives her healing powers. Lattuada plays her with great warmth and humour without stepping into the dangerous territory of mocking a 'cripple'.

Kate Cherry, who was responsible for the recent stylish production of Woman at the Window for MTC, has directed Miracles with a deft hand. Scenes and characters move swiftly, the comedy is broad and clown-like and, in the second half when Immaculata's sainthood becomes martyrdom, the shift of gear is effective.

Learner is a good gag writer; consider SNAG and Mistress. She makes the most of the jokes in Miracles. There is little subtlety in the dialogue or narrative. This is addressed in the second half to some extent when the dialogue necessarily becomes more introspective as Immaculata faces stardom, her demons and incarceration. .

With new work there is always the need for editing or re-writing during rehearsal. But with the writer not only out of the rehearsal room, but out of the country (Learner lives in in LA), it may be impossible.

The Torres Strait Islander narrator (Maryanne Sam) who observes Immaculata's journey and draws attention to the relationship between indigenous spirituality and Christian faith, seems extraneous. The sub- plot about the policeman and his junkie sister, serves the narrative little.

The play could be a fast, funny and perhaps poignant one-acter in its next life but it is an entertaining piece simply exploring a woman's journey of self discovery.

KATE HERBERT

She'll Be Right by Lynda Gibson, April 12, 1998

She'll Be Right Lynda Gibson

Melbourne Town Hall until April 26, 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert on or around April 11, 1998

Lynda Gibson is a yard of stump water. Part of her comedy is built around her leggy, awkward physique and quirky wriggling. Either that, or her wacko face-pulling.

The rest of her new solo show, She'll Be Right, is an idiosyncratic telling of Australian history through a melange of stories about Oz politics, pop music and her life in the theatre.

She was born in 1956. "Land of the Long White Liberal...John Howard's Dreamtime." In the first minute we know she is unhappy with our conservative government but she is not about to lose any blue ribbon lib voters by getting too serious.

Her material has broad appeal and her manner is charming and cheerful. She declares she has never been able to fight for her rights and craves some larrikin chutzbah. However, she has a disarmingly warm but confronting style.

She questions Menzies Order of the Thistle. "Is there an order of the cooch grass?" She praises Holt's referendum on the Aboriginal vote and says McMahon looked like a koala.

In her youth she failed sewing, over-acted in drama class, couldn't understand her film director and was booted from a TV commercial because of a pimple. She wore an afro, a poncho, Amco V-knees and looked like "a long, thin, white Chuppa-Chup on legs."

The skill in this satirical show is in Gibson's ability to sharpen her political point then break the tension with a gearshift into pop music, bad hippy dancing or schoolyard remniscences.

Her commentary on Australian music since the 60's is very funny. We travelled in a short period from Slim Dusty's "A Pub with No Beer" to sexy old rock legend, J O'K, The Wild One and then back to Englishman Charlie Drake's racist, blackface rendition of "My Boomerang won't come back."

We watched Denise Drysdale dancing in Happening 70 then turned to Countdown for inspiration. For culture we watched Skippy and Homicide while some bizarre real murders went unsolved in South Australia. We valued Kelvinators, Axminster, venetians and veneer.

Her running personal tale of woe is her slow journey to acting fame. For a while she realised she 'had tickets on herself", a dire sin in our tall-poppy-lopping culture. But she continued to practise her Oscar acceptance speech and, in the show, you'll hear it. Only an hilarious dinkum Aussie like Lynda (named after the electric blanket) could sell it.

KATE HERBERT

Rod Quantock, Crown Of Thorns, April 12, 1998

Rod Quantock, Crown Of Thorns

 Melbourne Town Hall until April 26, 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert on or around April 11, 1998

It's already public knowledge: Rod Quantock is my comedy hero. He is smart, informed, articulate - and seriously FUNNY. What makes him so different from everybody else is his overtly political agenda.

His material slaps both state and federal governments and, although he is blatantly critical of Kennett and Howard, he takes swipes at naughty Labour Party PMs too. Crown of Thorns follows in the footsteps of his two shows from 1997: Sunset Boulevard and Merry Christmas Jesus.

In the former he deconstructed the secret machinations of our economy, in the latter he launched Kennett's plan to promote Jesus' Second Coming as part of Victoria's "event-led recovery." Both of these issues rear their ugly heads in Crown of Thorns.

 The title resonates with criticism of Crown Casino bosses although he avoids direct references except for a smirking, "Haven't the last two weeks been fun?"

It is his easy manner and relaxed delivery that lull us into a false sense of comfort. Quantock forces the audience to look at hard questions: unemployment, poverty, economic rationalism, media monopolies, corruption, WIK, wharfies and - at the base of all of these - Power.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely and Quantock is not letting any villainous social cockroach slide under the carpet. He is courageous, even suicidal, in his frontal attack on Kennett who is not known for his tolerance of criticism.

The show is filled with witty and laconic yarns. He wanders off on satirical detours about doing gigs for a Plants Plus convention or at a Ringwood nightclub where the only thing he has in common with the 18 year-old audience is breathing. He reminisces about the days of the Vietnam draft when he was not yet a real radical.

But even what appear to be his most innocuous diversions pertain to our political and social environment. This comic has a clear moral and political philosophy. "Whenever I say 'democracy' people get nostalgic." .He bemoans Arnotts’ being sold to US concerns  "The history of Australia is written in its biscuits."  He declares there are advantages in being poor. "You never have to worry about what to wear to the opera."

Quantock never lets us forget what we have lost since privatisation of public utilities, bulldozing of our heritage, selling of our assets etc. etc. Lest we forget.

KATE HERBERT

Jenny Eclair, April 4, 1998

Jenny Eclair

Supper Room Melbourne Town Hall until April 26, 1998

Melbourne International Comedy Festival 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert on or around. April 3, 1998

If you have delicate sensibilities, or pride yourself on maintaining the high moral ground, then Jenny Eclair (or "that cake woman" as she is now known) is not for you. Rude words and naughty bits are her forte.

Eclair is a brassy blonde. There's absolutely nothing prissy prim and natural about this bouffant. "I'm blonde by choice". Her rapid wicked unapologetic Northern England babble has something of Ben Elton's style while her bizarre, perpetual motion physicality conjures up some insane alternative Playschool host.

She gabbles hilariously and provocatively about 'shagging', body parts, misspent youth, ageing ungracefully, the gravitational damage of childbearing and the 'shagless' long-term relationship.

Eclair on age: "A personality is the last refuge of a woman on the decline". On make-up: "I love the way it makes my face look ten years younger than my neck." On lasting relationships: "The secret is lies and deceit." On children: "You're not allowed to slap 'em, so give 'em a crap haircut." On going to the country: "I feel nervous if I can't see a sock shop out the corner of me eye."

Of course, these are only her printable quotes. Eclair is a "blue" comic. With a great deal more style and wit, she has keyed into an arena that was reserved for crass male comics. You know, the ones who do sex and fart jokes of which we have seen far to many behaving as if they are doing some male liberation routine. Remember that awful yobbo Brit TV footy comic, Frank Skinner last year?

Eclair is honest, never apologises for anything except a routine she thinks isn't funny enough. She simultaneously appals and entertains, astonishes and outrages the audience. It seems most of her staunchest critics are men who cannot deal with her raw sexual honesty. "I've been described as a 'hard-faced cow," she says.

She is vulgar but achingly funny. Her whippet-thin body and raspy smoker's voice are reminiscent of a bar girl in an episode of "The Bill". She alternately props her bones in a chair or prowls about the stage, leaning over the front rows with a leering red mouth and warm grin.

If you're up for some totally trashy and clever content, see the cake woman.

KATE HERBERT

Adam Hills in Life is Good, April 4, 1998

Adam Hills in Life is Good

Melbourne International Comedy Festival

Regent Room Melbourne Town Hall to April 26, 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert on or around April 3, 1998

"Life is Good" says Adelaide comedian, Adam Hills, "with some shit bits." This is the basis for his show "Life is Good". He spends then minutes having a gripe about things that peeve him then he moves on to joy, love, travel and fine spirited things.

The things that annoy him include The British press on Diana, the Australian press on Michael Hutchence and Bundaberg Rum. "It’s rum distilled in a car radiator."

But his big whinge is with The Innovation Catalogue that is new to me. It sells mail order junk that falls apart immediately or does nothing it proclaims in its ads. Wonder at the mechanical tie rack Aren't you exhausted after searching for a tie in the morning? Marvel at the message Recording Pen. "If you had the pen, wouldn't you write the message down?"

His piece de resistance is The Security Frog, which "ribbits" when a body moves on your front porch. Now that'd scare off burglars - and presumably frog-march 'em off the premises. (Sorry)

Hills has a charming and natural presence. He roams about the audience putting people on the spot and rapidly at ease as he asks personal questions. "Are you in love?" "Are you married?" "For how long?" His disarmingly warm manner compels people to tell him personal details.

He begins and ends the show with Advance Australia Fair with the words of cards because nobody knows them. His solution to our tedious anthem with the bizarre lyrics is revealed in his finale. He performs it as Jimmy Barnes to Working Class Man then as Olivia and Travolta to a medley of Grease numbers. It is hilarious.

His good cheer stems from singing peppy choruses of Obla Di Obla Da on the street in Edinburgh with an invariably cheerful Scottish dero.

Life must be good, he thought.

Hills' other material wanders around friends, loves and life.  His attempts to impress his new girlfriend by mock-stapling a post-it note to his head end up drawing blood. He comments on his inner-yob who has trouble coping with his newly outed gay mate. He questions the men about whether they have bought tampons for their partners.

An evening with Hills is a cheery night out with a lot of laughs and plenty of opportunity out of a pub atmosphere to appreciate his gentle humour.

KATE HERBERT

Kindlng Does For Firewood AND Hoaxes & Jokeses, April 3, 1998

 La Mama - Melbourne International Comedy Festival 1998

Kindling Does for Firewood, April 1, 1-19, 1998

Hoaxes and Jokeses: A Language Sandwich by Rodney Marks April 3-19, 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert on or around April 2, 1998

No one could say that the Comedy Festival lacks variety: in laugh value, style, content and quality. The two shows gestured at La Mama for the festival epitomise this eclecticism.

Rodney Marks is a Sydney-based professional hoaxer similar to Melbourne's Campbell McComas. He does the conference circuit, practical-joking for corporate bucks. At one conference he sacked the whole company leaving employees weeping and jobless. At Harvard, he played a new Dean, who had no reaction to plans to decimate the rights of every minority group but all hell broke loose when he threatened to merge the Business school with another

In another hoax he was billed as a resident psychiatrist, garnering plenty of wacko material until a distressed couple revealed a grotesque murder in the family. Marks came clean with his true identity and enlisted them as allies in the hoax. Phew!

 Marks is a masterly raconteur. He sits comfortably wearing a funny tie and braces, spinning yarns about his series of failed arts management positions, his attempt to change his life with more education and three degrees in Theatre Business and Government.

In his quiet laconic way, he creates a 'language sandwich', testing the audience with word-teasers, latin references and convoluted narratives.

The inspired element setting it apart from other yarnspinners, is the totally random components which rely heavily on improvisation and the audience 'owning' the show. He places a timer on stage. To break the pattern, interrupt boredom, punctuate stories and distract us, we were given roles.

 At regular intervals, people were designated to throw a ball across the space or improvise a time call. The audience choices become part of the show. One young man stood up, tipped the clock on its face and, in an instant, we had subversive Post-Modernism.

Marks' show is mild, unpredictable and funny. The same cannot be said for Kindling does for Firewood. Actors Anita Butler and Bruce Edwards adapted this wordy script from Rodney King's 1995 Vogel award winning novel.

The text converts slabs of prose into interminable onstage narration. Smart dialogue works on occasion but the poor, one-note acting, clunky design and non-direction of the piece makes it almost unbearable. Without the layering, style or theatrical form to support them, King's rough 90's youthful characters become unsympathetic and his language almost offensive.

This is an unfortunate addition to the La Mama Comfest program. Better to simply read the book

KATE HERBERT

The Nualas, April 1, 1998

The Nualas

Melbourne International Comedy Festival 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert on or around April 1, 1998

Let's face it. The Irish are really bloody funny and musical trio, The Nualas, are no exception.

These three women, all conveniently called Nuala, sing, mime, lament and prattle with us and each other. The audience almost immediately fell in love three times over with Skinny Guitar Nuala, Tall Dancing Nuala and Little Percussion Nuala (My names for them).

The Nualas look like nuns in silver lame'. They arrive on stage dancing an Irish jig to a James Bond-like soundtrack and proceed to banter in triplicate and sing original material with clever and bizarre lyrics riddled with irony and wit. They are perfectly in tune with each other, both musically and in the balance of characters and patter.

They have done their Melbourne homework that allows them to make topical references to local places and identities: Skase, Howard, Altona, Werribee. A rapid response to an audience member called Phillip was, "You have an Island don't you?

They sing songs from their 1997 "Wounded Woman Tour". They are all single, all dumped, all in Nuala therapy, all looking for love. Many have melodramatic titles such as "Tragic Circumstance" or "You Were Gone".

All are peppered with satirical quips, clever rhymes and hilarious choreography. Dancing Nuala compares men to a cup of tea. The refined, leaf-tea in a porcelain cup "turns out to be a dickhead". So she tries the scruffy chipped mug kinda guy. He's a dickhead too.

When they lose the Irish final for the Eurovision song contest, they represent Belgium instead with a multi lingual love song.  "No-one would be single if we all were multi lingual."

The lyrics combine the sweet, the silly and the grotesque.  In "You were gone", the departing lover, "sprayed the house with swearwords" and then "sellotaped the door".

My favourite, "Oddity" was a jazz-influenced melody with Beat poet lyrics and blue jazz mood lighting about Curly Kay who has a cabbage for a head. She martyred herself to feed starving children and became "the patron saint of the vegetable patch".

They take holidays in Lourdes, call Limerick the "stabbing capital of Ireland" and dismiss Sean O'Casey's famous Irish plays as "all brown trousers with turf". Their favoourite movie idol is Donald Sutherland and musical influences are "pop, rock baroque - and Alice Cooper"  She was great".

These Celtic Nana Mouskouri triplets are hilarious and enchanting.

Kate Herbert

KATE HERBERT

"State of Play" Victorian Playwrights' Conference, March 28-29, 1998

"State of Play" Victorian Playwrights' Conference

Malthouse March 28-29, 1998

 Article by Kate Herbert

The thud of 30 feet pounding the floor of the Hoopla Room above, interrupted the forum: "A variety of writing approaches" downstairs at the Malthouse.

Why would 15 writers wag this animated discussion? Simple. They wanted to do Jenny Kemp's "Generative Writing" workshop. Why were they jumping? To free the mind and body for inspiration after a morning of analysis.

Playwrights live a schizophrenic existence. The split between the creative act and producing and selling one's work is mind-bending; no wonder that Glen Perry's 7 point plan for playwrights includes "Give up writing" - twice.

We've all given up before - and twice on Sundays. Almost every discussion involved despair at the government's elimination of the middle-sized theatre companies and venues that provided a balance between the cheap and cheesy fringe and the ritzy mainstage. A healthy industry, and a government truly committed to culture in the community, supports all three layers.

"How many times a day are you touched by an artist?" quotes Graham Pitts. "Hundreds," replies John Romeril. Writers weave the fabric of our culture, tell our stories, create images and resonances that enrich our lives. They struggle to survive in an economic and social environment that cares more for profit than cultural enrichment.

This insidious decline in support places artists in competition instead of collaboration. A country relies on its culture for its identity. If we stifle their creativity, promote spectacle over creativity, buildings over art, uniformity over diversity, what are we showing the world? - American musicals and a failing Casino?

Says Andrew Bovell, ' Stop telling us we can't afford it and start counting the cultural cost." The government insists that the private sector will take up the slack, which is not viable. Said Bovell, "It is the government's responsibility to sustain the organisations and institutions which nurture our culture."

Even the language which theatre workers are now forced to use is derived from commerce. "Purchaser-provider models", "tendering", "pro-active", and the unnerving, "Outsourcing". The last takes creative control and responsibility from theatre companies and plumps it into one central body that decides who to support, what is a good play, and what an audience sees. So much for autonomy and creativity.

Writers are jaded. We are accustomed to having no 'career path", says Liz Jones, which makes us better prepared for new government work practices "But", quipped one delegate, "were turning into desiccated dried-up old work nodules."

Opportunities are shrinking with the disappearance of companies such as Anthill and Whistling in the Theatre, venues such as The Church and Napier Street, and funding cuts to innovative middle-sized companies: Theatreworks, Kickhouse, IRAA.

The great joy of the conference is feeling part of a peer group in a job which is chronically solitary. The importance of positive working relationships between artists, particularly writers and directors, was exemplified by Nick Enright and Neil Armfield in the creation of their hugely successful  stage production of Tim Winton's Cloudstreet.

Script development attracted much discussion. Aubrey Mellor (Playbox) dreams of an ensemble of actors to develop scripts yearround. Chris Corbett proposed 'active' models from the US that purposefully cultivate writers for the future rather than our 'passive' models which wait for scripts to arrive.

Roger Hodgman and Janis Balodis suggest schmoozing a director with a company that can mount your work. Unsolicited scripts, we heard, never get produced, even though Playbox  and MTC receive 300 scripts each a year.

At least Geoffrey Milne's statistics demonstrated a marked increase in Australian plays produced nationwide since 1968. Plays by women leapt from 15% in 1973 to 25% in 1993. Melbourne's achievements top other states with 36% of plays being by women in 1996, which was over 40% of the Australian content.

However, these are often smaller productions at La Mama or in the Fringe or Comedy festivals. It’s funny that the conference was about 50% women but the writing workshop had only one man present.

Are the men more interested in product than process?

Two of the final conference motions call for "State and Federal governments and both parties to accept and actively pursue their responsibilities for the development of a diverse, vital and economically viable Australian theatre" Here's hoping.

Janis Balodis suggested, "Hugging a critic". as a way to disarm them, eliminate their sense of power and make them give up. Perhaps "hug a politician” would be more effective. As a critic, I'd quite like to be hugged by writers..

KATE HERBERT

MOTIONS FROM THE CONFERNECE PLENARY SESSION:

Motions (passed unanimously)

1 That this conference call on state and federal governments and both parties to accept and actively pursue their responsibilities for the development of a diverse, vital and economically viable Australian theatre.

2 That this conference call on institutions which represent us : companies, guilds, unions, membership organisations and training institutions to take a pro-active position and collaborate in the development of policy and a theatre industry plan.

3. That this conference recommend peer assessment of writing grants, diversity of opportunities for funding development and the production of new Australian works of theatre be established on primary principles in government theatre and arts policy.

SINGSING BY KURT GEYER, March 26, 1998

SINGSING BY KURT GEYER

 AT LA MAMA UNTIL MARCH 29, 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert on or around March 25, 1998

La Mama is an organisation that provides for artists the freedom to experiment in a safe environment, the luxury of testing the water with untried ideas, and attempting a new skill in the theatre arena.

In the case of Kurt Geyer in his monodrama, Singsing, an actor has written and performed his own work which has some resonance of his own life's journey towards ' the golden place" he dreamed of as a child.

Geyer, directed by David Latham and with musical accompaniment and occasional interjections by pianist Tuck Leong, is alone on stage but creates a series of characters living in different time periods and locations, but linked by a common thread

Maria Karl Schnee is a cook in Dubbo in 1942. He has a shadowy past as a rent boy in Sydney and an unfortunate first name for a gay man who wants to be a drag queen chanteuse. His father, Gustav, is a disturbed bigot living in New Guinea. His aunt, Theodora, was an aviatrix who flew to PNG and was not eaten by the locals. Clarence Moon is revealed to be Karl's long-suffering secret admirer.

Geyer peppers the hour with snatches of popular songs, with particular emphasis on Maria in the Sound of Music. Some other odd choices appear. Two numbers from Dave Mason (The Reels) seem to be included simply because Mason came from Dubbo.

To quote Carl, "I'll never make a chanteuse.". Geyer is certainly no musical star and he would fare better staying in his lower vocal register.

The piece takes off dramatically when we meet Gustav. The tone darkens, tension heightens and the lighting better defines the space and focuses our attention squarely on the neurotic behaviour of the character

Even more successful was the final scene with Clarence. The text comes alive, emotional intention is clear, the journey of the play is completed. It is a pity that this touching fragment of story was not more fully explored at the expense of others.

Geyer is committed to his material which seems to draw on some personal experience  First plays are inevitably imbued with a fresh, nervous energy but are often fraught with difficulties and riddled with problems. Singsing is no exception.

It is cheerful and charming but suffers from some major script flaws and awkward moments in its performing. It feels uncomfortable and needs a stronger physicality and a rigorously re-worked script.

KATE HERBERT

White Neda by Bagryana Popov, March 19, 1998

White Neda by Bagryana Popov

at La Mama until March 29, 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert on or around March 18, 1998

Folk and fairy tales inevitably deal with the dark side. The Grimms recorded gruesome German folklore and these stories were not uncommon in other parts of the continent.

Bagryana Popov, founding member of Hildegard Theatre and Petrunka Bulgarian choir, interprets for the stage the Bulgarian folk tale of White Neda confronting the human fear of one's unknown destiny.

Popov, with stylish and simple direction by Nancy Black, integrates diverse vocal and movement skills with fine live percussion by Elissa Goodrich.

Neda, who lives alone, is rapturous about the visit of her nine brothers and their eight wives and eight nephews for a three day feast. She is enthralled by her brother's folk-tale of the Yuda at the well who threatens to disfigure a man unless he lies with her. He bargains for his life and saves himself by marrying her.

When, in deep night, Neda herself is compelled to fetch water to soothe her thirsty nephew, she is confronted with a 'real' Yuda at the well who wills her to go with her. Neda bargains by vowing to return on St. George's Day. Her brothers suggest she fool the Yuda by dressing in nun's black robe on her return. But death cannot be duped.

Popov's physicality and self-narration is effective and affecting. Her vocalising is particularly compelling in conjunction with Goodrich's extraordinarily evocative xylophone which reverberates with wind in the forest, darkest night and the drip of water. The persistent water imagery is a potent reminder of our deeper, emotional lives. The singing sound of one finger round the rim of a wine glass was inspired.

Ilka White's design and Paul Jackson's subtle lighting provide a fittingly spare environment for this rustic parable about death. One cannot hide from one's fate. The allegory could be interpreted more broadly as being about transformation, passing from one phase into another, about growing up and leaving behind childish things, almost as a hero's journey to acceptance of oneself.

The ending is a poignant, lyrical image of Neda, naively dressed in her nun's habit, choosing to leave with the Yuda. The early, joyful, skittering steps of the earlier, more innocent Neda are replaced by a more mature, ritualistic pace. We are left with a sense of a life incomplete, without children and husband, cut off before its time.

KATE HERBERT

Misalliance, G B Shaw, MTC, March 10, 1998

Misalliance by George Bernard Shaw

Melbourne Theatre Company

At Playhouse until April 4, 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert on or around March 9, 1998

It's no wonder George Bernard Shaw so accurately depicted both the middle and the upper classes. He married money and was able to indulge his socialist philosophies, modern opinions and his dilettante-ish dramatic writing.

Evidently the irony of this alliance eluded him; not so the 'misalliances' in his play of the same name. G.B.S. (Grievous Bodily Satire?) wrote Misalliance in 1910, when the flying machine was relatively new and women were yet to have the vote in England  It was a period of rapid social change. Shaw was provocative and his characters speak with an almost contemporary voice at times about the role of women, parents, justice, class system work and social ethics.

The play takes place in the blatantly 'new money' Surrey home of underwear manufacturer, John Tarleton, (Max Gillies) His bored daughter, Hypatia (Marta Dusseldorp) is to marry the hilariously foppish and academic Bunny (David Tredinnick) but fantasises about adventures. They materialise in the guise of a runaway airplane that crashes into the garden carrying Joey (Jolyon James) and Lena, an exotic and shamefully independent Polish acrobat (Pamela Rabe).

Shaw's dialogue is scathingly witty, wicked, irreverent and presumably shocking at the time.  The comic characters are painted with broad brushstrokes and most of the cast have a field day with the gags which come thick and fast. They romp about in Tony Tripp's sumptuous design of a wealthy country estate conservatory.

Tredinnick plays Bunny with an outrageously lip-quivering wimpishness. It is a delight to behold him skipping and prancing tossing barbed jibes at his victims before dissolving into unmanly fits of weeping to avoid a beating. Gillies is masterly and demonstrates his impeccable comic timing as the avuncular Mr. Tarleton who has never had an original idea in his life.

As his earthy wife, Maggie King is superbly underplayed and perfectly paced. Peter Houghton is the consummate buffoon as a pompous young socialist clerk who has come to seek revenge. Pamela Rabe, yet again, is radiant as the sensual, robust unwilling seductress, Lena Szczepanowska.

No social group or ideology escapes Shavian cynicism. The rich, the poor, the educated, the ill-read, the 'glorious young beasts', the ageing, the brawny: all get a jolly good tongue-lashing.

Some of the cast seem a little uncomfortable in their characters and the final thirty minutes dragged but the show is light, frothy and funny - if you like Shaw.

KATE HERBERT

Sisterella, March 7, 1998

Sisterella, book, lyrics, music by Larry Hart

 At the Regent Theatre from March 1998

Review by Kate Herbret around 5 March 1998

Imagine Cinderella as the unassuming daughter of a recently deceased billionaire. Her secretly wicked stepmother has at least two previous rich, dead husbands, a couple of lovers and two appalling daughters.

When poor Cinders inherits the fortune, step-mummy has her certified. It's hard to get to the ball to marry the prince when you're locked up and dosed up on lithium, so her fairy godfather invests her with 'attitude' or "Fump'. (Yes, fump?)

Such is the narrative of American, Larry Hart's funky new musical, Sisterella. Hart is responsible for virtually everything: book, lyrics, music, direction and even an onstage role that showcases a fine voice.

Hart has written some great tunes - thirty-two in fact, ranging from gospel to romantic ballads and raunchy chorus numbers with lots of bump and grind.

Sisterella is built around its tunes, which are more successful than the rather banal lyrics, thin story and cheap, adolescent jokes. It could benefit from cutting five or ten extraneous, often sentimental numbers that slow down the pace.

The audience rose to its feet and clapped like seals at the final curtain in spite of a half hour delay. The show is a hoot because of its funky music, great voices, energetic ensemble, well-drilled choreography (Raymond G. del Barrio), monumental design (Michael Scott-Mitchell), garish costumes (Cordula Albrecht) and spectacular lighting (Trudy Dalgliesh).

The onstage star of the show is New Zealander, Tina Cross, playing step-mum, Dahlia. She has a rich voice, wicked presence, the best songs and her villain is much more interesting than Ella who bleats throughout.

The engaging and talented Della Miles as Ella is never given a chance to belt out a song. Wanda Houston and Billie Stapleton as the sisters give bold, gutsy performances as the foodie who wants be a Country and Western singer, and the tacky rough-neck.

Sisterella is shamelessly riddled with stage musical references and High Camp. It looked as if we'd stumbled into Mardi Gras with guest spots from the Village People and a drag queen fairy godfather (Keith Wright). All the women are tarts, harradins or victims

If you can tolerate some Amercian schmaltz and you check your brain and your politics at the door, you'll have a good time at Sisterella.

KATE HERBERT

Adelaide Festival 1998: Theatre -

Adelaide Festival 1998: Theatre Program  Week One

Reviewed by Kate Herbert in early March, 1998

Published in Herald Sun.

Robert LePage, Seven Streams of the River Ota

La Tristeza Complice by Belgian Ballet C de la B

Snakesong: Le Pouvoir by Needcompany Belgium

Masterkey 

The Architect's Walk's

TS Eliot's Wasteland by Fiona Shaw / Debra Warner

It's inevitable. After every Adelaide Festival, I return exhausted but inspired. The sheer vitality of the place, teeming with artists both international and local, creates an environment of creative energy that cannot be reproduced in any other time or place.

Robin Archer's theatre program promised much and gave even more. There was a thread of urban decadence and sadness throughout many shows, a darkness relieved by hysterical, inexplicable laughter or deeply spiritual moments.

It is impossible to adequately translate into language the experience of the most compelling pieces. The hypnotic effect of seven and a half hours in the theatre watching Robert LePage's Seven Streams of the River Ota, is indescribable.

The final poignant moments of La Tristeza Complice (Belgian Ballet C de la B) are profoundly moving. I leapt to my feet. It was an overwhelming assault on the senses, slamming into the solar plexus with its chaotic characters and nervy cacophony of movement.

The best shows are unpredictable. During Snakesong: Le Pouvoir (Needcompany Belgium) it is impossible to anticipate what they might do next. Writer/director Jan Lauwers' exploration of sex and violence through variations on the myth of Leda and the Swan is brutal, sexual and bizarre. It breaks form, adheres to no theatrical conventions and yet the actors are exceptional and the experience unforgettable -particularly my panic attack during the ten minute total black out.

Most shows concentrate on the visual. In addition to its panoply of characters, River Ota has a superbly designed traditional Japanese house which transforms into a cramped New York tenement,  bleak concentration camp, lavish Amsterdam library or backstage at a Feydeau farce.

Director Mary Moore's set for Masterkey is a series of movable wardrobes stuffed with the personal memorabilia of six alienated old Japanese women in a Tokyo boarding house. The Architect's Walk's spare birch tree design is simple but evocative and Snakesong's minimalist design dots the space with marbled pedestals and a dead swan. Designers are now becoming directors.

Video technology is omnipresent. In Ota, it fills the rice paper screens, recalls past or evokes new worlds. In Masterkey, it spills over wardrobes, creating new dimensions and surprisingly emotional responses. Natural Life transformed a 19th century landscape with footage of Australiana.

Natural Life has live piano accompaniment like a Victorian melodrama. Snakesong, filled the space with provocatively loud, recorded original music while La Tristeza, used ten onstage accordions playing Purcell. Japanese dancer, Juku Wada, works with a surround-soundscape ambushing us from hidden speakers.

Shattered language echoes the disconnected images we witness. The demented fringe-dwellers in La Tristeza, yell at us. The epic, River Ota, alternately gushes with language or subsides into silence. One scene, called "Words", is a barrage of multi-lingual translation that demonstrates the torrent of language to which we are subjected daily. Snakesong's dialogue is simultaneously translated to and from Italian and English.

Combine the visually rich and layered words of TS Eliot's Wasteland with the fragile and magnetic presence and resonant voice of Fiona Shaw, and the deceptively simple direction of wizard Debra Warner, and you have a riveting and swift (37 minute) piece of passionate verse theatre.

We are witness to devastation and tragedy. In River Ota grips the heart with its lyrical study of victims of Hiroshima, Nazism and AIDS, drawing together damaged lives on several continents. In Architect's Walk we see the Nazis bearing their post-war punishment, while in Natural Life white men abuse women and Aboriginals. Masterkey watches the decline if six women into despair and the violations in Snakesong are distressing.

Almost all maintain a sense of humour in the face of such despair. We need hope and laughter and the flip side of tragedy is humour. La Tristeza is hilarious, Snakesong weirdly funny and Ota has scenes of witty naturalism and even a Feydeau farce on stage..

The Asian influence is enormous in many works. Masterkey incorporates Japanese actors and performance styles while Ota is set partly in Japan and Uttapriyadarshi is by a North Indian company performing a Buddhist myth.

The festival theme, "the sacred and the profane", permeates the entire program and the audience is transformed and transported by most. This is why we go to theatre.

KATE HERBERT