Henry IV, by Bell Shakespeare, June 11, 1998

Henry IV by William Shakespeare by Bell Shakespeare Company

 at The Merlin Theatre Malthouse until June 27, 1998

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Reviewed around June 10, 1998

Shakespeare's Henry IV is a study of the quest for power. It reveals the corruption of rulers, the folly of princes, the vanity of power-seekers and the myriad weaknesses of humankind. To paraphrase Falstaff, honour is for the dead.

In the Bell Shakespeare Company production, director, John Bell pares Parts 1 and 2 down to a rollicking 3 hours that happily and anachronistically skip in style from merry mediaeval England to contemporary Bovva-Boy troubled UK.

Henry IV (Richard Piper) replaces his deposed cousin, Richard II, only to be hounded by the ungrateful and hotheaded Hotspur, (Darren Gilshenan) who joins Wales and Scotland in rebellion. Henry's son, Prince Hal (Joel Edgerton) is engaged in revels with his bawdy acquaintance, Falstaff (John Gaden) until Part 2 when he inherits the crown and must give up childish things, which evidently include his 'friends'.

Part One travels at a cracking pace with battles and jokes coming thick and fast. Bell contrasts the pomp of the court with the raucous ribaldry of the inn where Falstaff rules as the clown prince. Clear parallels are drawn between crimes wrought by Henry and the petty thieving of the inn-fellows. Shakespeare did not present a pretty picture of the ruling house for his Queen Elizabeth.

Part Two is slower and theatrically less interesting because all the action has already taken place. Essentially we wait for Henry to die and Hal to discard Falstaff like a used rag.

With fight director, Steve Douglas-Craig , Bell has created colourful battle scenes reminiscent of marauding soccer hooligans. They chant "Harry Percy" and sing choruses of Liverpool's theme song, "You'll Never Walk Alone".

Gaden demonstrates his incomparably stylish delivery as Falstaff, the lovable rogue and the versatile Gilshenan is superbly overwrought as Hotspur and over-sexed as Pistol. Edgerton is capable as Prince Hal but seems more comfortable in the lighter first part.

Bell's fine ensemble, all of whom play multiple roles, revel in the blokiness of the play - even the two women (Carole Skinner, Rebecca Massey) Highlights were Tony Llewellyn-Jones' Welsh rebel, Glendower , Edwin Hodgeman as the raffish old legal eagle, Justice Shallow and cameos from Tony Taylor and the inimitable Duncan Wass.

The production is better-served by the Merlin after years at the cramped Athenaeum. Justin Kurzel's design is reminiscent of a nightclub alley. Its steeply raked stage is surrounded by cyclone wire, scrap metal and rock-and-roll detritus Alan John has created a thumping musical score which underscores dramatic tension.

This is an exciting and innovative production with broad appeal to a modern audience.

Kate Herbert

Keene /Taylor Theatre Project 3, June 2, 1998

By Daniel Keene & Ariette Taylor

Brotherhood of St Laurence Warehouse 97 Brunswick St Fitzroy 

until June 21, 1998

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

In this third series of the Keene/Taylor Theatre Project, the three short plays rely not on technology, but fine performances and dialogue to affect us.

 We are drawn closer to the plight of our underclass that has been created by our social and moral vacuum and loss of community.

Director, Ariette Taylor, uses four actors, a dancer and18 extras. Performances are all versatile and detailed. Once again, the pieces are set in the raw and real environment of the Brotherhood of St. Laurence furniture warehouse and staged simply by Taylor with very few theatrical devices. The design uses the actual welfare furniture and Paul Jackson's lighting is simple with bare globes and plastic light fittings

Daniel Keene's playwriting falls into two distinctly different styles: social realism and a more elusive poetic form In this series, both styles are represented.

To Whom It May Concern is a poignant, intimate tale of an ageing and ill father's struggle  (Malcolm Robertson) to solve the future of his 40 year old intellectually disabled son, Leo, (Phil Sumner) after father is gone. It is sweet and tragic with dad trying to be practical and Leo remaining frightened and uncomprehending. These are the disenfranchised of our inner city. Information is power and this father and son have none so they wander alone in the urban wilderness.

Custody is a grittier slice of life about a police cover-up of a death in custody. The young buck cop (Dan Spielman) is responsible but his volatile senior officer (Phil Sumner) engages in an elaborate deception to avoid discovery. It is violent and terrifying in its emotional brutality, overt racism and the characters complete lack of accountability for their actions. It is an indictment of the justice system.

Keene's poetic form appears in What Remains of Dying that is a moving, fraught monologue by Paul English as an unnamed, unspecified man, distressed and despairing when his wife and son disappear. Rows of silent people sit as if in a waiting room. Intermittently, a woman (Meredith Blackburn) who may represent his wife or his fate, dances through the space..

 He speaks directly to us, reading from what could be a police statement. Is it a confession? A breakdown? Is his family alive or dead? This piece the most difficult and remains a little too obscure. But it deals with irrational or unresolved fears and the desperate needs of humanity when it hits rock bottom.

By Kate Herbert

A Cucumber Called Rebecca , May 30, 1998

A Cucumber Called Rebecca by Five Square Metres

at Matteo's until May 31, 1998

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

 Reviewed around May29

Restaurateur, Matteo Pignatelli of Matteo's, is known for navigating a creative course in food service and his contribution to the Arts 2000 Dine Out week is no exception.

He wanted to stimulate all five senses of his guests so he called on Five Square metres, a theatrical improvisation group and Cosmo Cosmolino, a musical trio to accompany his stupendous five-course degustation luncheon menu.

While we plunged headlong into gloriously prepared and presented taste sensations cooked by chefs Raymond Khalil and Brendan McQueen, the 'theatrical 'chef, Michel-Pomme Hollandaise (Andrew Morrish) abuses his customers for their lack of style.

He berates his recalcitrant waitress (Sandra Pascuzzi), embarrasses a frumpy solo diner who awaits her tardy blind date (Clair Bartholomew) and keeps one eye on the seductive methods of his sultry wine waiter (Michael Hurwood).

Classical and gypsy strains of violin (Hope Csutoros), Cello (Helen Mountford) and accordion (Judy Gunson) accompany all of this.

The performers are improvising on a loose scenario that takes place, not on a separate stage, but amongst the real diners at table. The dining room drama escalates when the waiter does his sexy, latin dance and smears cream all over the dowdy object of his desire only to lick it off to a Piazzola tango.

Other diners were spattered with stray clots of cream. Matteo wanted us to be touched, to feel close, to be reached but not to feel invaded.

The unexpected guest at our table – a sharp-witted Q.C. with a taste for good wine and naughty stories – provided further entertainment.

The set menu, served with God's gift to wines, was divine. We began with a light sardine and smoked salmon terrine, then delicately flavoured sauteed prawns on a giant gnocchi with pesto, rich squab breast with duck liver, finely-textured saddle of white rabbit with olive and truffle tapinade, all followed by a cherry tartlet and coffee. Oh happy Sunday afternoon!

Matteo hopes to continue his crusade to bring fine art and food together with a possible monthly luncheon. He runs  "The Endless Lunch' annually with a debate on food issues, trivia contest and food and wine from lunch to the wee hours. What an innovative and personable host he is. Eat at Matteo's.

By Kate Herbert

Tear from A Glass Eye, May 27, 1998

Tear from A Glass Eye by Matt Cameron

Playbox Beckett Theatre until June 20, 1998

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Reviewed around. May 26, 1998

"I'm sorry. I seem to have lost myself," repeats Titus Petra, (Peter Houghton) the lead in Matt Cameron's new play, Tear from a Glass Eye.

He is a sketchy character who is notable for his inability to feel. His portrait is empty. He is invisible.

The text is riddled with metaphor to colour his emotional numbness. Titus 'lives in his head' then discovers he doesn't have one. He cannot tolerate anyone 'getting under his skin' then he loses layers of tissue after severe sunburn. He awaits the impossible tear from a glass eye.

Cameron has experimented with an interesting abstract form that incorporates both the comic and dramatic. Scenes are introduced with repeated projected titles such as "The Mood Swing" and Lament of the Numb" and the ominous "Black Sun, White Sky".

Simon Phillips directs the production seamlessly and stylishly, capturing the dark foreboding of the literal and psychological landscape. It is enhanced by a sterile metallic environment designed by Shaun Gurton, dramatic lighting by David Murray and evocative original music by Ian MacDonald which shifts effortlessly from the whimsical to the forbidding.

The cast of five are a strong ensemble although Houghton seems, at times, a little constrained by the text and the limits of such an unemotional character.

The narrative is non-naturalistic. Both ex-girlfriend Iris (Christen O'Leary) and his parents (Monica Maughan, Bob Hornery) believe Titus has escaped on a plane after he ruthlessly set Iris alight with turpentine and a match. She lives with horrendous burns and somehow intuits that Titus' plane is about to crash and feels responsible.

But he lives, having avoided the disaster by giving his seat - 42A- and boarding pass to a Mystery man who is known now as "Mr. Petra", (Alex Menglet). Eerie disassociated scenes take place in the desert where the amnesiac Titus wanders aimlessly and meets Petra, his alterego.

Cameron's writing has a lovely ironic twist and poetic, rhythmic quality which gives texture to the dialogue. However, the metaphorical narrative is never quite resolved or clarified. The mystery man is not the only "mystery wrapped in a riddle."

Although it begins well, the script, like Titus, loses its way in the second half. Themes of indifference, rejection, abandonment, violence, absolution and punishment remain unclear and under-developed. It lacks the complexity and fully developed characters of Cameron's last play, Footprints on Water.

Kate Herbert

Killer Joe, May 25, 1998

Killer Joe by Tracy Letts

Universal Theatre until June 14, 1998

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Reviewed on or around May 24, 1998

Would you kill your mother for the insurance? This family would.

Well, they would pay Killer Joe to do the deed then take the remainder that, we assume, could not be much more than $6,000 each; probably not even enough to buy a new annexe for their caravan home.

US playwright, Tracy Letts, created a seriously dysfunctional Southern White Trash family which director Adrian Butcher has successfully translated to the deep north of Australia. The design by Alan Surgener is a fine replica of a trashy trailer park site.

The production is compelling viewing and the style has a gritty realism that is offset by some very funny dialogue, absurd situations and troubled characters. It is unusual to see such realistic and disturbing violence on stage. Bloody make-up and clever stunt fighting are generally the realm of screen these days.

These are people who live in a moral vacuum, a world in which life is cheap, where you can sell your sister to pay your debts, hire a killer, demean your wife and beat your son.

 Surprisingly, Letts has written sympathetic characters, apart from Killer Joe (Steve Turner) who looks like a bank teller but is  a slimy and heartless misogynist looking for a virgin who is too dim to be manipulative. This he finds in Dottie the simple daughter of the family, played with sensitivity and humour by Kate Mulvany.

The production moves swiftly under Butcher's skilful direction. He has paid great attention to detail of characters and relationships and has accentuated the comic elements that heighten the shock value of the violence.

Performances are uniformly strong and actors work in a broad style. Jim Shaw is hilarious playing the father, Ansel as a gormless idiot. Jona Zeschke, as his son Chris, is credible as the classic loser who lost the farm literally and is now pursued by drug dealers. As his stepmother, Jo Wyndham as Sharla is suitably tarty.  Turner, as Joe, is ominously well mannered and dispassionate.

Letts has written a hit play reflecting his home state of Oklahoma. It has been performed in his new home of Chicago, in Sweden, Norway and London. The Australian production is produced by Diana Bliss and originated in Perth. It is a gripping night of naturalism.

KATE HERBERT 

Lucrezia and Cesare, May 23, 1998

Lucrezia and Cesare by Raimondo Cortese

 Ranters Theatre Theatreworks until June, 1998

Reviewer; Kate Herbert

Reviewed around May 22, 1998

A dubious fascination with sex and violence is the pivot of Raimondo Cortese's early play, Lucrezia and Cesare.

His character, Cesare, describes sex as "a despicable blend of tenderness and brutality." However, the play explores sado-masochism further than this.

This re-worked script, directed by Adriano Cortese and performed by Zoe Burton and David Tredinnick, is the fourth production of the play since 1992. Trapped in a half-lit cell riddled with bugs and vermin and without food or water, these two distant echoes of the mediaeval Borgia siblings rant, seduce and indulge their shared obsessions and sexual fantasies related to murder and suicide. The space is dangerous, their behaviour unpredictable and irrational.

Their relationship is built on repeated rituals in which they spit venom, abuse and curse one another. The opening, taunting monologue is reminiscent of Genet's The Maids who daily role play the demeaning and murder of their Mistress. The incest

Cortese's writing often wittily counterpoints poetic and the conversational language. It is often lurid in its imagery and he is faint-hearted about using the graphic and scatological.

Others of Cortese's works have been more successful: Features of Blown Youth has a raw, contemporary inner urban angst and Petroleum is a poignant study of two women who are strangers. Lucrezia and Cesare lacks the complexity of character development or narrative of these later plays.

The problems arise in the repetitiveness of its action. The two characters seem to go on no journey. Of course, it is cyclic and their days repeat themselves but this provides limited dramatic tension and dynamic range in the characters.

Burton is seductive and sensual as the tigress, Lucrezia. Tredinnick, in his inimitable way, finds a fine balance between the absurd and the terrifying in the Jack-the-Ripper-like Cesare. The design by Jaqueline Everitt complements the interesting abstraction of the direction.

In spite of its wild fantasies, its blatant seductions, its challenge of taboos and attempts to shock us with urination and excrement, the piece remains oddly cool and passionless.

KATE HERBERT

Horizons & Kickin' up the Dust, May 21, 1998

Horizons & Kickin' up the Dust

David Williamson Theatre Swinburne University until May 30, 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert on or around May 20, 1998

In recent years, Australia has seen the rise of numerous successful aboriginal artists and companies in the mainstream theatre: Jack Davis, John Harding and Black Swan Theatre in Perth to mention some.

Until recently there has been no formal training in Melbourne for indigenous theatre workers but we are now seeing the first graduates emerging from the Swinburne University TAFE Small Companies and Community Theatre course designed specifically for aboriginal students.

With sponsorship from Next Wave, City of Melbourne and Australia Council, Horizons has been developed, under the direction of Peter Oyston, with continuing and graduate students .It is programmed in a double bill with Kickin' up the Dust by REM, an indigenous company from Wollongong.

The whole evening is memorable for its warmth and truthful storytelling. Horizons draws an interesting parallel between the First Settlement invasion of 1788 and a young aboriginal group who are illegally evicted from their house in 1998 to make way for a car park.

The cast's commitment to their story and the naturalness of their performances are the show's greatest strength. The level of skill is uneven and the structure very loose but the personal nature of the dialogue and the joy and ease with which it is delivered are more important in this context.

There are lively performances from Greg Fryer and Pauline Whyman but the highlight is a riveting monologue by 1996 graduate, Henry Goodwin. He speaks with great passion and eloquence to an aboriginal youth arrested for demonstrating. "We will take one day at a time, change one law at a time, reveal one crime at a time."

Kickin' up the Dust, directed Roger Rynd, features Maureen Watson as herself telling stories as an aboriginal woman coming to terms with her lot. She is supported on stage by Tanya Ellis who chats, prompts and paints, and by musician Mark Atkins who performs an exceptional didgeridoo piece, "Hitchhiker', which is a feast of uncanny sound effects.

This show has the same casual warmth as Horizons as it wanders through Watson's opinions and memories. She makes gentle political statements about women, aboriginals and power that only occasionally become didactic. Watson is hilarious and immediately creates an intimate relationship with the audience .her style is that of a stand-up comic and her gags are smart and funny.

The program of two shows is too long but it is a stimulating and colourful evening.

KATE HERBERT

The Club, MTC, May 18, 1998

The Club by David Williamson, by Melbourne Theatre Comany

 at Playhouse until June 13, 1998

Reviewed by Kate Herbert around May 17, 1998

If you can get the right blend of footy, jokes and blokes in the one piece of entertainment, you should have a sure-fire hit in Melbourne. Bruce Myles production of David Williamson's The Club has all the ingredients and a bloody good product.

The script, written in 1978, seems strangely contemporary. Its reference to "more than enough industrial strife out in the community" could be about our wharves. The central issue of buying and selling players has not changed, although the dollars may have increased.

The play may appear to be about football but it essentially exposes the power games played by men in their assumed positions of power: coach, president, vice-president and top player. The horror for the purists lies in the realisation that the real power lies with the general manager with his early rational economics principles and 'pragmatic', albeit secretive, purges of the club.

The play is a rollicking good night out. It is a laugh a minute with a cast including great comic actors such as Max Gillies and John Wood who does some wild, goofy clowning as Jock, a vain old hypocrite who unwittingly smokes hashish.

Williamson's earlier plays were better structured than many later works. The Club has a clever rhythm that keeps characters moving on and off stage in various duos, trios, quartets etc. The play demonstrates the worst of machismo, male bravado and vanity.  Characters shift alliances and status like the wind and Myles maintains the pace in spite of the odd patch of banal dialogue..

Rather than fully-rounded personalities, Williamson writes caricatures This allows recognisable footy-world stereotypes to romp unchecked. Some suffer from such two-dimensionality but generally the satire is effective. Many reflect real players who will be recognised by footy followers: the expensive recruit, the doped-out full forward. Others are just great football anecdotes told by ex-players.

Gary Sweet is both rugged and vulnerable as Laurie, the humourless coach whose job is under threat. In fact everybody is under threat from Gerry, the "oily weasel" manager, played with insidious plausibility by Jeremy Stanford.

Richard Roberts’ design depicts realistic clubrooms, complete with old players' photos and views onto the ground at dusk with clever lighting by Jamieson Lewis.

Anyone who pines for the days of football for football's sake will warm to the play's condemnation of money ruling sport - and you'll also get a laugh.

KATE HERBERT

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