The Woman in Black, July 20, 2006

 The Woman in Black  
Adapted by Stephen Mallatratt
By Newtheatricals, Lunchbox Theatrical Productions & Singapore Repertory Theatre

Comedy Theatre,  July 20 to July 28, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on July 20, 2006

The Woman in Black, by Stephen Mallatratt, is a theatrical phenomenon. It has run for 19 years on the West End. Perhaps its longevity is because it is a ghost story. Audiences love to be scared with the lights out in a safe environment.

The play, directed imaginatively by Robin Herford, is a two-hander (John Waters, Brett Tucker) adapted from Susan Hill’s novel.  Mallatratt employed simple theatrical conventions to solve the telling of a wordy story. Two actors play all characters and lighting, props and sound cunningly evoke atmosphere, landscape and terror.

This production begins slowly but dramatic tension escalates when Arthur Kipps (Waters) reaches Eel Marsh House on the intemperate English coast.

Kipps, an aged lawyer, engages a young Actor (Tucker) to train him in the art of public speaking so that he, Kipps, might tell his account of a terrifying, ghostly encounter in his youth and purge himself of its horrors.

The Actor insists the story be theatricalised. He plays Kipps throughout and Kipps plays all other dramatis personae.

A versatile Waters is compelling, transforming physically and vocally with the change of a coat into the numerous eccentric characters in this cleverly wrought production. Each is a study in Englishness: Kipps’ doddering employer; Daly, a sympathetic local; Kedwick, the taciturn carriage driver; Jerome, the nervous land agent; and the publican.

Tucker, as the Actor and the young Kipps, provides a strong balance for Waters. His Actor is an exuberant, arrogance young artist and he depicts Kipps’ journey into darkness and terror credibly.

Kipps must attend the funeral of Mrs. Alice Dablow, an aged client, and then spend days at her isolated manor, sorting her papers. Kipps realises the locals are reticent to speak of her and only Kedwick will drive him. When he arrives, he confronts terrifying phantoms in the graveyard, house and marshes.

The production uses reliable old conventions to scare the pants off us: the sudden reveal, a scream, doors slamming, suspenseful walks into darkened rooms, sputtering out, unreadable tombstones, impenetrable fogs and animated objects.

Michael Holt‘s dusty, old theatre design is a character in its own right. A rear scrim reveals rooms, tombs and staircase when backlit. Damien Cooper’s lighting and smoky atmosphere portray the dense fogs of the marshlands.

But it is the suspense and sudden reveals of the dark lady that elicit shrieks and starts from the audience.

By Kate Herbert

The Pajama Game, Production Company, July 19, 2006

The Pajama Game 

Book by George Abbott & Richard Bissell, Music and Lyrics by Richard Adler and Jerry Ross

By The Production Company

State Theatre, Victorian Arts Centre, July 19 to 23, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on July 19, 2006

It is a novelty these days, to see a trade union win a pay battle but, in The Pajama Game, the seven and a half cents pay rise is a spectacular victory for the union reps and factory workers of Sleeptite Pajamas, Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

Terence O’Connell’s concert production is a lively romp with a cast and creative team of exceptional local talent.

Abbott and Bissell’s book is a cheeky, sexy tale, particularly for 1956. Based on Bissell’s novel, 7 1/2 Cents, it depicts not only the union battle but also an pyjama erotic factory landscape of burgeoning sexual affairs.

Ian Stenlake is magnetic and virile as the ambitious factory Superintendent, Sid Sorokin. His rich, powerful baritone pairs well with Pippa Grandison’s gutsy voice, ebullient personality and feisty character, Babe Williams, the Grievance Committee of the union.

Sid and Babe’s passionate love affair comes unstitched when Sid fires Babe during a stop work. Management and Union cannot be friends – or lovers.

Adler and Ross’s music and lyrics explain the enormous early success of the show. the songs are memorable and diverse.  

Steam Heat is delicious and features the inimitable Rachel Beck as Gladys, executing Bob Fosse inspired jazzy choreography. (Alana Scanlan) You With the Stars In Our Eyes is a lyrical love song, Once a Year Day a rousing chorus and the tangoesque Hernando’s Hideaway is sung in a downbeat beatnik club.

What made this musical different from others of the period was its setting in an obscure town, in an unromantic factory, peopled by factory workers and secretaries. It was known as the first left-wing musical. However, Sid and Prez (David Harris), the union president, would be sued for sexual harassment these days for their romantic antics.

There is a delightfully quirky support cast including the delectably funny Julie O’Reilly as the cheeky Mabel and Adam Murphy as time and motion foreman, Hines. Beck is one of our hottest musical properties and Harris plays the geeky, skirt-chasing unionist, Prez, with relish. Peter Hosking gives some gravitas to the union-bashing boss, Hasler.

Although this concert production does not have all the bells and whistles of a full production, Peter Casey’s very tight orchestra rouses cheers from the crowd, Phillip Lethlean’s lighting adds atmosphere, Richard Jeziorny’s design creates location and period.

The Pajama Game is an energetic, spunky and sexy night out.

By Kate Herbert

I Am My Own Wife by Doug Wright, MTC, July 12, 2006

 I Am My Own Wife by Doug Wright
Melbourne Theatre Company with Delphi Productions

Where and When: Merlyn Theatre, Malthouse, July 12 to  Aug 1, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on July 12, 2006

I Am My Own Wife, by Doug Wright, bears the inimitable stamp of an ideal theatrical collaboration between writer, actor, director and designer.

This production boasts the 2004 Pulitzer for Drama and Tony Awards for Best Actor and Best Play. Jefferson Mays is captivating; a consummate actor so in command of his technique that it becomes invisible.

Wright believes in storytelling, an element often ignored in contemporary deconstruction. His play is based on personal research into an eccentric, ageing, East German transvestite and collector of late 19^th century furniture. He/she was known as Charlotte von Mahlsdorf (Lottchen).

As Wright investigated Charlotte’s seemingly impossible survival under both Nazis and Communists, he uncovered bravery and layers of secrets and deceptions in her murky past.

Mays conjures Charlotte and delivers her fully formed as if through some magical projection from the past. He captures her tottering gait, slight stoop, light voice, careful, broken English and her caginess about her life.

Dressed in a simple black peasant’s frock, headscarf and boots, Charlotte is an anachronism, a freak, a man living as a woman; not a drag queen but an unglamorous old woman.

Charlotte was irrepressible, outliving regimes and becoming a legend in Berlin. She displayed her collection of Grunderzeit antiques (1890-1900) in her own museum and ran an illegal gay club in her cellar for thirty years. As a teenager, she murdered her father, saving her mother from his violence.

But when her Stasi (Secret Police) file was revealed, her innocence was questioned although she denied betraying friends.

Wright is a character in his own play. Such self-referential writing can fail but, in this case, we need to see Charlotte through Wright’s initially naïve eyes to understand that her stories are so well rehearsed and impenetrable that the truth is clouded.

Mays’ performance is just short of miraculous. He not only delivers Lotte with his impeccable characterisation, timing, delivery and a wry humour, but he peoples the stage with a parade of other eccentric characters: a US journalist, Charlotte’s aunt, father and friends, Nazis, Stasi, Siggy, the television host and myriad international reporters.

The sheer theatricality of this production is outstanding. Direction by Moises Kaufman is sleek and seamless. Wright’s dialogue is witty, well observed, respectful and enquiring. The superlative design (Derek McLane) represents Charlotte’s life and museum in a wall of clocks, credenzas and her precious gramophones.

This show will renew your faith in theatre.

By Kate Herbert

Rebel Tour by Stephen Vagg, July 5, 2006

  Rebel Tour by Stephen Vagg

 La Mama at the Courthouse, July 5 to 15, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on July 5, 2006

Now that the Australians are out of the soccer, there might be some cricket tragics who would like to reminisce about the political debate that surrounded the Australian rebel cricket tour to South Africa from 1985 to 1987.

Stephen Vagg’s play takes place during the secretive negotiation period before the tour. It is a snapshot of the machinations that occurred inside the Australian Cricket Board (ACB), the Australian government and the personal lives of the players concerned although the characters are fictitious.

In this period, the face of Australian cricket changed forever. Players became professional, negotiated contracts, and higher salaries, Kerry Packer introduced “pyjama cricket” - the one-day games, and the ACB introduced trainers, physiotherapists and dieticians to the game.

The production will appeal to those who know recent cricket history. The script is educational and integrates enormous amounts of factual information into the dialogue. At times, the details are overwhelming and the dialogue becomes uncomfortably didactic and expository.

Although there are some monologues directly to audience, most of the play is naturalistic. We watch players, Ken, the Chairman (Ian Rooney) and Ray, the team lawyer (Adam Ford) haggle over contracts in offices, bars and locker rooms.

Taylor is instrumental in the changes taking place in the ACB. He introduces salaries, professionalism and two-year contracts. Ken pines for the amateur days before money ruled the game and Packer had no power.

When Conrad Van Eyck (Andrew S. Gilbert), a South African, secretly signs up several Aussie cricket legends for $200,000 each, the seams begin to split at the ACB.

The politics of the period are effectively embedded in the story. South Africa faced international economic and sporting sanctions until it dismantled Apartheid. The Australian government banned all sporting contact with South Africa. Many Australians believed politics should not interfere with sport.

The acting is uneven and the production, directed by John Brousek, is very static, relying on the torrent of dialogue. It could benefit from some script editing and more physicalisation. Some actors are tripping over their densely written lines.

The characters are recognisable types in the sporting world. Josh Cameron as Chicka is a loutish bowler who blames batsmen for everything. Leo Faust plays Jack, the nice-guy batsman and Matthew Boesenberg is Butch, the unpredictable batsman.

A highlight is Phil Roberts as the cricket-hungry senator who gives an impassioned speech in parliament about sport and Apartheid.

If you are missing the cricket season, Rebel Tour could fill the gap for you.

By Kate Herbert

La Douleur by Marguerite Duras, July 4, 2006

La Douleur by Marguerite Duras 

adapted by Laurence Strangio & Caroline Lee 

by Malthouse Theatre

Beckett theatre, Malthouse, July 4 to July 23,  2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on July 4, 2006

Marguerite Duras has a potent capacity to startle an audience with her simple detail. In this play based on her novella, La Douleur, her language shifts from personal to reportage, from the “I” to the “she” and the observational to the emotional.

The diary notes that comprise La Douleur were written at the end of World War One, forty years before the novella was published.  These writings were adapted for the stage by director, Laurence Strangio, and actor, Caroline Lee.

Lee, as Marguerite, restlessly paces on Anna Tregloan‘s evocative, cage-like set design. As she self-narrates the story, Lee reclines melancholically on the divan, snatches the old telephone from its cradle or paces aimlessly.

But mostly she waits. She waits for news of her husband, Robert L’s return from the German concentration camp or news of his death. Lee and Strangio capture the interminable and unbearable quality of her waiting. Time is elastic. Days stretch into weeks. 

Waiting may not be intrinsically dramatic but Duras’ intense observation of every detail of mind and body is rivetting.

Lee balances Duras’ combative attitude with her girlishness. Her light voice vibrates with fragility and suffering. She vividly creates the spectre of Robert’s emaciated body lying prone on the divan after his shocking return and evokes the shadowy presence of Marguerite’s lover, known only as D.

The emotional gulf she experiences between herself and her wretched, estranged husband and the literal ditch in which she saw a dying German soldier, are represented cunningly by a real breach in the stage.

Strangio’s direction is spare, never interfering with the text and always offering a gently abstracted physicalisation of the action.

David Franzke’s atmospheric soundscape is almost subliminal in its subtlety and Richard Vabre’s dim, smoky lighting reminds us of the half-life of pain and loss in which Marguerite and Robert are living.

The audience peers, like voyeurs, into the space from the two opposite sides of the traverse seating arrangement.

There is no melodrama in the performance, the style or in Duras’ writing. She demands out attention. The dialogue has what Duras’ described as “a tremendous chaos of feeling” that is counterpointed by the simple, plain speaking style of Lee.

In this delicately rendered solo production Duras, through Lee, reveals the atrocities of war, its horrific and unseen aftermath and the people who suffer.

By Kate Herbert

Pitch by Peter Houghton, La Mama, June 16, 2006

Pitch by Peter Houghton

Where and When: La Mama, June 14 to June 25, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on June 16, 2006

Peter Houghton is funny. He is a funny performer and his script, Pitch, is really funny.

Houghton is alone on the tiny La Mama space but he peoples the stage with characters. Not only does he inhabit an enormous number of personages, he plays them as specific English, American and Australian movie actors.

In a tight show directed by Anne Browning, Houghton plays Walter Weinermann, a screenwriter who is rehearsing the pitch for his movie script. Based on Houghton’s own nightmarish experience of pitching a script to an il-matched trio of film financiers, it is a roller-coaster ride through India circa 1935, and Iraq, Afghanistan, Paris and Hong Kong in the present.

Houghton has a perfect, silent movie-style clown face. He evokes locations with cunning vocal interpretations of Indian, Arabic and Chinese musical themes. Through the vehicle of his vivid language, we enter a smoky Parisian bar, the deserts of the Middle East, the garish streets of Hong Kong and a crashing UN plane.

As the fat, cigar-puffing Hollywood producer, he states that there are only four story themes for a movie: mystery, the loser, love and revenge. No one wants the truth.

So the hero’s journey begins. Jones, played by Clint Eastwood – or, rather, Houghton playing Jones as Clint Eastwood – is a CIA or MI6 agent. Jones might be played by Russell Crowe. Who knows?

 He is sent by Miles (Anthony Hopkins) to assassinate Clive (Michael Douglas) with the help of Violetta (Catherine Zeta-Jones). But it all goes horribly wrong when Jones discovers Miles is using him, and not for government work.

Pitch is a romp. Walter, as he prepares his pitch, continually reverts to his own love story with his own Catherine and his revenge story about Clive, the born-again Christian for whom Catherine dumped Walter.

Houghton captures the desperation, elation and panic that accompanies the final stages of any artistic endeavour, particularly when it involves asking for money.

He shows us the movie with meaningful close-ups, jump-cuts, wide pans of the desert, musical interludes and quirky cameos. His impersonations of Eastwood, Crowe and Rupert Everett, Sean Connery and Elijah Wood (Frodo) are clever and his rendition of Robert de Niro is hilarious.

The bottom line, as the media release says, is that Pitch is a riot, particularly if you know blockbuster movies well.

By Kate Herbert

Fiddler on the Roof, June 13, 2006

Fiddler on the Roof

Music by Jerry Bock, Lyrics by Sheldon Harnick, Book by Joseph Stein

Her Majesty's Theatre, Melbourne

June 13 until July 9, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on June 13, 2006

Chaim Topol is the uncontested star of Fiddler on the Roof. 

Nearly 40 years since the then unknown Israeli actor burst onto the London stage as Tevye, the lovable Russian-Jewish milkman, Topol’s professionalism and relish for the role are undiminished.

Topol is that rare creature: an actor with palpable charisma. His eyes glitter, his gaze touches all, his timing and delivery are impeccable and he delicately balances pathos with humour.

Fiddler is also a rare thing. It won nine Tony Awards and was one of the 1960s musicals that dealt with serious issues. Joseph Stein based his superbly constructed narrative on stories by the Yiddish writer, Sholom Aleichem.

Although its depicts oppression and ethnic cleansing of Jews in Tsarist Russia, the story of Tevye, his family and the peasants of Anatevka is one of love, pride, dignity and their Jewish tradition.

The men wear prayer shawls and hats, the Matchmaker (Maggie Kirkpatrick) provides suitors, the father provides a dowry, daughters do not marry for love or without father’s permission and they certainly do not marry outside the Jewish faith.

In the changing world of revolution, poor Tevye’s precious traditions are as precarious as a fiddler playing on a roof. Tevye suffers the humiliation of three daughters marrying inappropriately. His village bears the degradation of a pogrom and its people are spread to all corners of the world in the Jewish Diaspora.

Tevye seeks solace, counsel and conversation from his God as he confronts his despair, decisions and familial conflict.

The marvellous music (Jerry Bock) and lyrics (Sheldon Harnick) are etched into our unconscious. Tradition is a rousing chorus from Topol and the entire cast. Tevye’s, If I Were a Rich Man, is a cheeringly hopeful tune and Sunrise Sunset is a poignant ballad.

Topol is the jewel in this revival of Fiddler but, with a few exceptions, there is little sparkle in the supporting cast. The chorus scenes, (Wedding Dance, Tradition, Anatevka) are rousing but some actors are disappointingly disconnected from the accent, character or feeling of the Russian Jews they portray.

Judith Roberts as Tevye’s wife, Golde, is energetic but needs that rampant bossiness Tevye fears. Maggie Kirkpatrick as Yente lacks authenticity as Yente, the matchmaker. Barry Crocker captures the comic in Lazar, the butcher and Bart John is powerful as the Russian Constable.

Laura Fitzpatrick, as Tevye’s daughter, Hodel, and David Harris as Perchik, her rebellious student fiancé give the most authentic and credible performances.

This is a worthy production and the songs just keep on delighting.

By Kate Herbert

Teja Verdes, Red Stitch, June 7, 2006

Teja Verdes by Fermin Cabal

Red Stitch Actors Theatre

Red Stitch, Rear 2 Chapel St, St. Kilda, June 7 until July 1, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on June 7, 2006

Listening to the horrific details of the systematic torture of “The Disappeared” in Teja Verdes, is simultaneously numbing and painful.

The play, by Spanish playwright, Fermin Cabal, reveals in an unsentimental style, the atrocities perpetrated in Chile after the coup in 1973 by General Pinochet.

The gasping cruelty of the torturers is described almost dispassionately in most of the seven monologues. Their lack of sentimentality makes them sometimes unbearable, sometimes more accessible.

Grieving women were the face of “The Disappeared” and, in the play, it is seven women who compellingly reveal their truth about the past.

A young woman, Colorina, (Verity Charlton) disappears because of her  relationship to a Marxist boyfriend. Colorina herself speaks coolly to us, detailing her arrest, abduction and subsequent abuse.

Following her is her Friend, (Olivia Connolly) who shares her cell and similar torture.

In contrast to the victims, is the Doctor, (Kate Cole) a woman who brazenly reframes the tortures when she lies to the Committee for Reconciliation in the 90s.

The most chilling voice is the almost childlike gravedigger (Evelyn Krape) who seems bemused by the increasing number of bodies “found” on the streets.

The Informer (Olivia Connolly) confesses her betrayal of Colorina and others. She elicits our sympathy when we hear how her son was brutalised.

The most hateful character is Pinochet’s defence lawyer, (Laura Lattuada) who mocks, taunts and patronises the court, justifying Pinochet’s brutal actions as par of being a leader.

In our safe, warm homes, such inhumanity seems impossibly brutal and incomprehensible. However, the cruelty and grief are real.

Krape almost steals the show with a beautifully inflected portrayal of the gravedigger that balances naivete, humour and knowingness.

Lattuada, as the Lawyer is frighteningly cool and confronting and Cole’s adamant lying as the Doctor is totally credible.

Connolly moves us with the Informer’s confession and Charlton underplays Colorina appropriately with great control.

Director, Jonathan Messer, focuses on the voices of the women and allows Cabal’s monologues to create the details of the torture. Cabal’s language is poetic, his construction deceptively simple and the outcome emotional and educational.

By Kate Herbert

Treading Water by Trudy McLauchlan, June 6, 2006

Treading Water by Trudy McLauchlan
by Lunchtime Theatre

Horti Hall,  June 6 to 23, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on June 6, 2006

Lunchtime Theatre is a small company that performs at lunchtimes, Monday to Friday, in or close to the CBD. 

This means that workers can see the shows in lunch hours and those who prefer not to venture out at night can see a show. They even provide soup and bread.

Treading Water, written by Trudy McLauchlan, is a play they have performed in the past. It is a domestic duo, focussing on the peculiarities in a relationship between a young couple.

The play begins with the pair cleaning their living room. She (Amanda Armstrong) dances and tries to avoid work and engage him (Tim Stitz) in play. He maintains his focus on the cleaning, dodging her playfulness.

As he perseveres, moving from cleaning to laundry, the woman wanders off in her own mind, playing at being a pop singer, using a packet of Tim Tams as a microphone and singing a bizarre little tune called The man on the Horse.

She interrupts his laundry folding, trying to engage him with Knock Knock jokes, word games and, finally, resorts to elaborate, romantic stories about the gorgeous men she sees or meets.

Slowly, we realise that these men are all fantasies she creates to make her life interesting. He is jealous of the fantasy men. Being merely human is no competition for a dream man.

What becomes evident is that their inability to leave their apartment is a metaphor for their entrapment in both the relationship and their individual patterns of behaviour.

The metaphor seems forced and the style of the play is inconsistent. This may be the reason the two actors at times look and sound uncomfortable with the dialogue.

Stitz plays the warm and ordinary boyfriend well enough but there is little character development in the script for him. Armstrong seems to enjoy the bubbly character she plays but looks a little awkward with the shifts in style and focus of the script.

Director, Catherine Hill, chooses to set the play in a naturalistic setting but this constrains the play in the world of the real when it could possibly benefit from a more abstracted style of playing and design.

If you have a spare half hour and want a nice cup of soup and a show, this is a cheerful show to see.

By Kate Herbert

Stomp, Her Majesty's, May 30, 2006

Stomp
by Luke Cresswell & Steve McNicholas

Her Majesty’s Theatre, May 30 until June 4, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Stomp is a thumpin’, pulsing animal that just keeps on kicking.

This explosive theatrical percussion confection was born to Luke Cresswell and Steve McNicholas in England in 1981 and thundered onto Australian stages in 1992. It is still running on stages in New York and London and touring the world.

Stomp is box office gold because it is like the comic book of theatre and music. It thumps, thwacks and kapows for 90 minutes, smacking the audience in the belly with driving percussive rhythms and visceral energy.

The eight scruffy, urban guerrilla performers are drummers and dancers, but mostly they are personalities. The six men and two women create percussive mayhem on myriad domestic and found objects. They bang, slap, clap and tap on things that normally sit silently in our laundries, back yards and laneways.

Stomp is not just a show about drumming. The performers are clowns and dancers. They create relationships with each other and with us. We learn to know and love each quirky one of them: Blondie, Mohawk, Bruiser, Tattoo Boy, Pee Wee and the rest.

They open with an old Stomp standard, swishing and banging routine with brooms then shift to the clatter of matchboxes and a massive group body percussion with slapping, stomping and clapping.

They do a soft shoe on sand then make music out of the clean up with dustpans and brooms. Rubber pipes create other–worldly soundscapes and tin pails, ladles and even kitchen sinks (filled with soapy water) become instruments.

There are dowelling poles, paint scrapers, plastic bags and newspapers, clicking cigarette lighters, the thump of basketballs and the thud of tea chests.

Metal found objects decorate a huge, upstage scaffold and drummers dangle precariously from harnesses as they beat rhythm from this vertical drum kit.

The finale with thumping rubbish bins, clanging lids and 44-gallon drums is dynamic and thunderous. The crowd went wild.

Early in the show one performer trains the audience, like Pavlov’s dogs, to echo his clapping. The pay-off for theis daggy audience participation comes in the encore when the call and response of the audience and performers is insanely complicated and wildly appreciated.

The noise is often deafening, the pace hectic, the audience feverish, the performers both hilarious and bizarre. Stomp is a big banger; it’s the whole fireworks display.

By Kate Herbert

The Clean House, MTC, May 24, 2006

The Clean House by Sarah Ruhl 
Melbourne Theatre Company

Fairfax Studio, May 24 until July 8, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on May 24, 2006

The Clean House by American playwright, Sarah Ruhl, is a cheerful comedy tinged with melancholy. It has a very American, almost a soap opera, style.

The central characters are Lane (Wendy Hughes) and her husband, Charles, (Pip Miller) two upmarket surgeons. Lane has a depressed Brazilian maid, Matilde (Daniela Farinacci) and a compulsive obsessive sister, Virginia (Deidre Rubenstein).

Charles’ South American patient, Ana, (Julia Blake) is dying with cancer as well as having an affair with Charles. Sounds like Days of Our Lives, doesn’t it?

The performances are polished and Kate Cherry’s direction is stylish. This is definitely a quirky comedy but it has little substance. Comparisons with Marquez’s Magic Realism are exaggerated. The collisions of past and present, imagination and reality are common in theatrical conventions.

Lane employs Matilde to clean her house. Cleaning depresses Matilde, a young woman born to parents who were “the funniest couple in Brazil.” Matilde’s goal is to create the funniest joke in the world and to become a comedienne. The irony is that she tells all her jokes in Portugese and they are untranslatable.

The comedy in The Clean House revolves around dirt and the chaos of ordinary relationships. Grief and love, obsession and habit are the foundations on which Ruhl constructs her humour.

Despite the wealth of talent on the stage, the script is amusing but ultimately unsatisfying, leaving one with a sense of having seen a piece of fluff.

Christina Smith’s all white, contemporary set design allows Cherry to explore scenes imaginatively, placing them behind scrims, blinds, on upper levels and in deep background. Lighting by Jon Buswell, provides atmosphere and depth to the design.

Farinacci manages the Brazilian accent well and rise to the challenge of making foreign language jokes seem funny. A gravel-voiced Hughes plays the abrasive Lane with an edge of anxiety and panic and gives the character a journey to compassion and peace by the finale.

Rubenstein, as Virginia, provides much of the comedy with her motherly fussing and obsessive cleaning of Lane’s house.  Miller finds some layers and comedy in the rather underwritten character of Charles and Blake is charming and alluring as the beautiful South American patient who literally charms the pants off Charles.

The second act certainly raises the emotional stakes in this light comedy and perhaps it gently prompts audiences to consider their personal lives. It is certainly not a thesis on relationships.

By Kate Herbert

Headlock, Kage Theatre, May 23, 3006

 Headlock
by Kage Theatre with Malthouse Theatre

Where and When: Merlin Theatre, Malthouse,  until June 3, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on  May 23, 2006

Headlock, by Kage Physical Theatre and directed by Kate Denborough, is a muscular representation of the relationship between young men and their male peers.

The play uses limited dialogue and relies on the visceral physical connections between three youths, brother called Shane (Byron Perry), Dean (Gerard Van Dyck) and Matthew  (Luke Hockley).

The lads may be past school age but their antics are those of boys with no responsibilities, little fear and intense loyalties to each other.

Our first visions of them are as they wrestle playfully. The main stage is a wrestling arena that is both an effective environment for their mock fighting and a metaphor for their world of young masculinity.

Shane, separated from his two brothers, Dean and Matthew, finds himself in the dangerous and alien adult world of prison. He is out of his depth. The playful pranks of his brothers could nto prepare him for tthe violence and abuse he will face in the prison.

None of this is seen overtly. The threat of violence is implied or represented imagistically by shadowy men grabbing at him, a huge digital clock ticking away the deathly prison hours, Shane’s timidity and lonely tears. His final, violent moments are a metaphorical wrestling match. His apparently lifeless body is nursed and cradled by his two brothers.

Shane's short time in prison is peppered with his recollections of his life-affirming times with Dean and Matthew, in the mosh pit at a rock concert, tagging walls over train lines, stealing cars or sneaking a joint in the forest.

Shane was carefree until the consequences of his boyish actions sent him on a journey that ends in violence.

The physical work derives from contact improvisation. The men lift, support and dance as they wrestle. The occasional dialogue is incidental; their physicality tells the story. The Auslan (sign language) used by Matthew is often more expressive than the spoken dialogue.

The design (Ben Cobham, Andrew Livingstone) extends beyond the wrestling ring to mysterious, darkened upstage corners. The lighting design is dramatic and evocative.

Denborough keeps the action constant. Some sections move slowly but the momentum drives us to the inevitable violent conclusion. The ending is unclear and too sudden but the piece has impact.

Headlock balances warmth and intimacy of young men with the danger associated with the unpleasant side of masculinity. Childhood does not always prepare boys for the world of men.

By Kate Herbert

Eurobeat: Almost Eurovision, May 18, 2006

Eurobeat: Almost Eurovision 
by Craig Christie and Andrew Patterson by Glynn Nicholas Group

Where and When: The Palms, Crown Casino, from May 18, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert on May 18, 2006

If you have never seen the Eurovision Song Contest, its parody, Eurobeat, directed by Glynn Nicholas, will still tickle your pop song nerve.

Eurovision is as notable for its screaming failures as for its few successes. For 51 years, Eurovision spawned trashy Euro-Pop songs, the most famous being ABBA’s Waterloo.

The real Eurovision is a sparkling calendar item for the cool set that celebrates Eurovision parties annually.

It is difficult to parody an event that is already so over-the-top absurd but Eurobeat does it with panache – and lots of lycra.

Most of the twelve Eurobeat songs are better than the contenders in the real contest. Twelve countries are represented on stage while flag wavers support them in the audience.

A highlight of this “spangly show” is Julia Zemiro as Bronya, one of two cheesy Bosnian hosts. Zemiro, swathed in a ridiculously pink, sequined gown, grins and poses as Bronya, Bosnia’s top pop and television starlet. Zemiro’s wit, energy, throaty accent and faux glamour maintain the hype for the entire evening.

Jason Geary, playing her dim-witted, smirking co-host, Sergei, is a perfect foil for Bronya with his quirky English language malapropisms and sexual innuendo.

The script (Craig Christie, Andrew Patterson), originally written for a pub show in 2004, crackles with satirical Eurovision references and glib jokes about Bosnia’s lack of sophistication.

But it is the songs that make our little Eurovision fans’ hearts tremble with delight.

They encapsulate core Eurovision principles: meaningless pop lyrics, power ballads, lycra, lame’ and sequins, key changes, superfluous choreography, kaleidoscopic lighting, trashy stage design, excruciating lyrics, camp dancing boys, big hair, folkloric touches, lots of teeth and, oh joy of joys, the alarming costume reveal.

Winner on opening night, Greece, had it all. Singing “Oh Aphrodite,” Zoe Ventoura’s Nana Mouskouri clone transforms into the sex goddess herself when her brown caftan is torn off to reveal a skimpy, white vestal virgin outfit.

Russia’s KGBoyz, a white lycra boy band, sang Ice Queen, with bump and grind and plenty of pouting.

The UK duo was wildly clumsy and Estonia’s sexually explicit, boot-scooting gay cowboys tickled the audience. Hungary’s folkloric Magyar song was a hit. Iceland parodied Bjork while Lichtenstein’s post-modern Plastic Bertrands didn’t even sing.

Ireland got lost in a fog of dry ice, France blended food with classical mime and Germany sang about beer. Sweden’s answer to ABBA just sang ”The Same Old Song.”

Get the tele warmed to watch the real Eurovision on May21 - then go see Eurobeat. It is a hoot.

By Kate Herbert

Six Dance Lessons in Six Weeks, May 17, 2006

Six Dance Lessons in Six Weeks 

by Richard Alfieri by Ensemble Theatre

Comedy Theatre, Melbourne, May 17 to  June 10, 2006

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Richard Alfieri’s Six Dance Lessons in Six Weeks is an effective vehicle for two Australian musical theatre stars: Nancye Hayes and Todd McKenney.

Not only does it allow them to dance in every scene but it endows them with feisty and funny dialogue and a deliciously dysfunctional relationship.

It is all a bit naughty too. Occasionally the two characters swear impulsively eliciting audible gasps and roars from the audience, they insult each other and cast aspersions on all and sundry. The conservative theatre-going audience feels it is witnessing something a little risqué with all the casual profanity, references to sex and homosexuality and jibes about religion.

The play is set in Lily Harrison’s (Hayes) very realistic retirement villa in Florida, the land of ageing gracelessly. Lily is 72, although she pretends to be 68. “If you say your age, your face hears,” she quips. She is the unwilling widow of a rigid Baptist minister who she still pretends is alive to protect her social image.

When Lily books six dance lessons, Michael Minetti (MCKenney) arrives with a portable CD player and a rude, crude manner, an explosive and often hilarious relationship is born. Michael is a middle-aged, gay dance instructor who abandoned his chorus boy lifestyle and unfortunate romantic past to nurse his dying mother.

The pair rubs each other the wrong way and develops a pattern of lying, arguing and forming a truce. They love the fighting and, eventually, each other. Secrets and vulnerabilities are revealed. T

Hayes plays Lily, the bored, proper retiree, with style and impeccable comic timing, relishing the slightly bawdy dialogue.

Mc Kenney revels in his devilish humour of Michael, “the passive-aggressive queen with a bad attitude”, and plays him with without overdoing the campness.

This is not music theatre but a play with seven scenes each built around a weekly dance lesson. Director, Sandra Bates, keeps the scenes moving swiftly and the dialogue crackling.

Although the constant bickering is tiring initially, there is sufficient warmth and humour to rise above the conflict.

The dancing is a highlight with choreography by John O’Connell. The pair does Swing, Tango, Waltz, Foxtrot, Cha Cha and Disco, However it is the ups and downs of the unlikely and poignant relationship of two social misfits that make the play unusual and provides the marvellous duo of Hayes and McKenney with a hot show.

By Kate Herbert

Mrs. Petrov’s Shoe by Noelle Janaczewska, May 9, 2006

Mrs. Petrov’s Shoe by Noelle Janaczewska 

Theatre@Risk

 fortyfivedownstairs,l May 9 to 21, 2006
Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Noelle Janaczewska based her play, Mrs. Petrov’s Shoe, on the literary scandal surrounding Helen Darville/Demidenko. Darville won the Vogel (1993) and then the Miles Franklin (1995) awards for her novel, The Hand That Signed the Paper, supposedly based on her life in a Ukrainian family.

The book was exposed to be based on a totally fabricated past and Darville was denounced as a fraud.

Janaczewska’s play begins with Anna, (Lucy Beaumont) a Polish-Australian wearing Polish national dress delivering her acceptance speech for a literary prize.

What follows are scenes from her novel and, purportedly, her childhood. Ania is a child with an elaborate fantasy life. She imagines that the unusual behaviours of her harmless parents (Mike Bishop, Carole Patullo) are signs that they are Russian spies. Her mother’s benevolence to a Pole in hiding is suspicious and her father’s frequent disappearances to be treated for depression she assumes to be secret missions.

The repetition of Anna’s acceptance speech slows the play and some childhood scenes lack dramatic tension but there is intrigue created by the parents’ secretive antics. It was disappointing that Mrs. Petrov, the Australian-Russian spy of the title, played no role at all in the story.

The dramatic pay-off comes late in the play when Anna’s fraud is revealed and exotic Anna becomes plain Anne Loxton.

There are some interesting, if not compelling written notions about Anglo-Australians feeling less interesting than their migrant neighbours. There are also references to the ill treatment and alienation of post-war migrants that bear a striking resemblance to the fear and suspicion directed at recent Middle Eastern and Asian refugees.

Director, Chris Bendell, keeps the numerous short scenes moving swiftly. He uses simple staging to create a number of locations and designer, Kellee Frith, adds detail to the stark, white stage with the addition of nick-nack boxes and Polish icons.

Mike Bishop and Carole Patullo play the Polish parents with a suitable earnest and serious tone. They break hilariously into broad comedy as Anne’s “real” Yorkshire

parents.

As Anna/Ania/Anne, Jude Beaumont is credible as the naïve child and the duplicitous adult Anne. Toby Newton is versatile as Ania’s brother and his investigative journalist is very entertaining. Katie-Jean Harding is subtle as Ania’s friends.

There are flaws in this script but the themes will raise issues for discussion in the VCE students who are studying it.

By Kate Herbert