Filch by Angus Cerini, Sept 30, 2000

at The Diggers, North Melbourne Town Hall until October 8, 10pm

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Filch is the fourth in a series of solo shows written and performed in vivid style by Angus Cerini.

Themes recur in Filch that were addressed in each of Cerini's previous projects: poverty, homelessness, disempowerment, urban decay, abuse, mental illness, male violence, political negligence and loneliness.

The form of the performance is now as important as the content. Cerini created this show with his mythical alter ego/director, Aardis von Vaarkenhausen.

He calls it "a physical extemporisation upon a brutal yet poetic spoken text." Cerini narrates the entire story as a voice over running throughout the performance.

On stage, Cerini presents the same story simultaneously, sometimes speaking or miming with the voice-over or physicalising, in an abstract form, the images of the narrative.

It is a fascinating style and a compelling performance from this multi-skilled artist. The entire showis accompnaied by evocative and unobtrusive recorded sound. (Darrell Jarrell , Dave Corbett)

There is a large serving of angst and existential pain in the tortured characters and poignant stories told in this piece.

The main voice is a homeless man, begging for a dollar so he can buy his frothy caffe latte from Julio's cafe. He wakes each day with a little patch of sun on his face to cheer him. He believes in love at first sight, falls for a tragic abused girl he calls Jenny.

He sees a street character called Monkey daily. He reads a story from the newspaper about an old man who is bitten by his own dog that, as a result, is put down.

There are scenes in a fetid gaol cell and there are memories of the main character as an 11 year old child who craves the company of his absent father.

The passion and commitment as well as the physical skill of this piece colour the stream of consciousness narration and make this a powerful 40 minutes in the Fringe Festival.

By Kate Herbert

Tightrope by Krinkl Theatre, Sept 30, 2000

At The Diggers North Melbourne Town Hall until October 8, 2000

Show:  8.30pm

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

The Fringe Festival is always riddled with extremes of skill and quality of performance. Tightrope is one of the more inventive and satisfying pieces- and you could take the kids to it.

Lara Cruickshank and Padi Bolliger are Krinkl Theatre. The title of the company captures something of their work. They crinkle, wrap and sticky-tape newspaper to create images and puppets before our eyes.

Their work with newspaper puppets is inspired by English designer, Julian Crouch, allows the daily newspaper to be animated in simple and vivid ways.

The two puppeteers are part of the action. They arrive through a sea of crumpled newsprint and develop a seductive relationship with each other as they move to the stage.

They roll and cellotape paper until we see a tightrope appear before us. A newspaper puppet, trapped in a suitcase, emerges. He is the tightrope walker. His limbs are ill-formed, his hands are huge fans of paper and his eyes are lumps of cellotape but he is a living creature to us.

He is animated by his two puppet-masters who are, in turn, manipulated by his tricks and antics.

It is delightful watching the little paper puppet giggle as he teases his masters then quake in his paper boots as he is forced to climb the tightrope ladder.

He develops confidence as he practises his tricks, twirling an umbrella, doing flips and balances on the tightrope.

Less successful theatrically is Snap, written and directed by Ross Brisbane. (Not to be confused with Snap at La Mama)

A woman (Melanie Such) is dissatisfied with her career as a photographer. She snaps pics of children, glamour shots of bored housewives and even photos of a Turkish family for their tombstones.

When a disturbed man (Kane McDonald) asks her to photograph "the person I used to be", she finds he has left his evil presence behind in her studio.

The premise could make a grim, philosophical play but the show lacks definition in the writing, direction and performances. Scene changes are interminable, characters are static and there is no emotional substance.

By Kate Herbert

The Enormous Club by Born in a Taxi, Sept 27, 2000

At The Black Box, Arts Centre until October 5, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Born in a Taxi is a group of four performers who specialise in creating physical theatre and movement improvisation. The Enormous Club, directed by John Bolton, is a development of a shorter piece of theirs from 1997.

All four members of the ensemble (Penny Baron, Nick Papas, David Wells, Carolyn Hanna) are charming and engaging. Each plays a distinctive character in The Enormous Club.

Baron is a startled and awkward little urchin with bright eyes and impeccable comic timing and detail. Papas is a huggy-bear kind of hobo in a flap-eared hat and knee pads. Hanna is a romantic and anxious figure in an ivory gown.

These three function as a unit. They meet, play, experiment and love each other, rolling, hugging and romping like children.

Then, arriving through a portable doorway, is a stranger in dress shirt and boxer shorts. David Wells character is an intruder who upsets the harmony of the trio, both diverting and distressing them.

He is an entertainer, singing Eastern European songs accompanied by accordion. He makes them dance, seduces the women, teases, taunts and frightens them in turn.

The movement style is abstract, often funny and demonstrating the unity of spirit of this ensemble.

The first forty minutes are the most successful. The later vignettes are interesting but they are disparate and therefore less connected or compelling.

David Murphy's set is simple, portable and effective. His three wheel-on doorways allow secrets to be revealed. Mountfort's original musical compositions are diverse and clever. Nick Pajanti's lighting is muted and dusky but hand held candles and various lamps illuminate the action further.

The Enormous Club heightens human emotion and embodies the unconscious in these quirky child-like characters.

By Kate Herbert

Bang! A Critical Fiction! Sept 21, 2000

by Margaret Cameron

at La Mama until October 1, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

There is humour and anguish in  Margaret Cameron's eyes. Emotion is etched in her expressive face. Bang! A Critical Fiction! is the latest manifestation of her superbly crafted and idiosyncratic style of solo performance seen in such pieces as Knowledge and Melancholy.

Cameron, winner of  a Green Room and other awards, is magnetic yet again. Her performance and writing tilt from the hilarity of the opening dialogue to poignant, sometimes wrenching despair. It is sheer beauty to witness such skill and whimsy on stage.

Bang! is not a narrative-based show. Cameron investigates notions of "rectification" of the self,  the search for the missing parts of self which can unify the spirit. She  explores the loss of a loved one and the quest for wholeness and healing.

It may sound esoteric but it accessible, witty and intelligent. Cameron presents the entire piece in an achingly funny Texan character with a brassy accent, black cowboy hat, spiffy jacket and boots. She teases us with cheeky jibes in which we see the performer peeping out of the character.

"I've been doin' some thinkin' and I've been havin' me some creative ideas.," which we see soon after.

She plays with objects: a perky little chest of drawers filled with light, a lit cracker, a cap gun and a box of throw-downs - things that go Bang!

She controls her own technology, a recalcitrant CD player. When a few technical hiccups are ironed out, the lyrical quality  of the piece will flow.

The music is an eclectic selection of country tunes and evocative romantic melodies  and tosses in quirky sound tracks such as The X Files music or David Bowie's Major Tom for good measure.

The sound switches on and off as Cameron flicks the remote blithely over her shoulder at the CD player. She rides the little chest of drawers like a bronco or jives to the beat, challenging us with her eyes.

Cameron balances text with movement, humour with the poetic, the banal with the philosophical and the personal with the universal.

She creates metaphors for human experience. Crackers explode just as love and life explode us into pieces. We can only hope that we can put ourselves back together again in a package that can still function.

By Kate Herbert

Flame by Joanna Murray-Smith, Sept 21, 2000

At La Mama until October 1, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Flame by Joanna Murray-Smith deals with grief about not only the death of a loved one but the death of a love.

Max (Alex Pinder) and Louisa (Michele Williams) stand in an empty space. They speak as if disconnected. She has sold, or rather given away, their marital bed. he is appalled. Slowly we realise that he is dead, she is his widow.

He asks over and over, "Do you miss...?" She does not reply. They interrupt their thoughts, talk at cross-purposes and misunderstand each other.

We discover that the marriage was "A tight little life". She says, "Thy loved their life but they had no life." The dead man's memory of their life is a mirage. he believed it was perfect while his wife was bored and having an affair with a friend of theirs.

In the end, no relationship is safe from the chaos and destruction of miscommunication and ennui. Murray-Smith wrote this play is 1994 and it pre-empts the dialogue style of later plays, Redemption and Nightfall. The characters sentences are broken and their thoughts struggle out of the dark recesses of their minds.

Joy Mitchell's direction concentrates on the images and poetic style of Murray-Smith's writing. The actors talk directly to us much of the time, avoiding eye contact and emphasising the lack of communication between them. There is no technical embellishment. The lighting is simple and unchanging.

Pinder gains our sympathy by playing Max as a bright, almost naive man who still idolises his wife even after death. His voice is light and almost piping like a child, his demeanour open and imploring.

Williams ,as Louisa, finds a grim and steely edge that highlights the dissonance between the characters. Her icy, ironic tone previews the awful truth she reveals later about her betrayal of her husband. Both actors manage the difficult dialogue and style admirably.

This is a deceptively simple piece which takes a complex emotional landscape and tackles it in a stylised form. Murray-Smith's writing is effective and, at times, compelling, particularly in the first half.

By Kate Herbert

Daily Grind , Sept 14, 2000

by Vicky Reynolds

Sprat Boy Productions at Trades Hall until September 24, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Strippers have their own raft of problems associated with work conditions.  Their concerns are not about superannuation and promotion opportunity, but about safety, length of career and ageing.

Daily Grind, by Vicky Reynolds, highlights the most significant change for strippers in recent years. If they don't work 'hot', they will starve.

'Hot' means anything beyond the simple bump and grind. It might involve live sex acts on stage at a footy club turn or demeaning acts with a vibrator.

Either way, it leaves the women vulnerable both emotionally and physically.

This play originated at the Melbourne Workers' Theatre some years ago to address workplace issues for strippers. This new production, featuring Inga Norgrove and Katharine McErlean, is not nearly as theatrically successful as the first.

The script itself has emotional power, but its flaws are more visible in this production because of the intermittent awkwardness of the acting and direction. (Helen Doig) 

The show lacks the subtlety required to maintain the balance between the lurid stripping and the emotional drama. At times it feels like a peep show and we have trouble concentrating on the personal and political rahter than the physical.

Roxy (Norgrove) is a 22 year old trying to save to go back to school. Louie (McErlean) is 30-something and at the end of her career. The play shifts between Roxy's first gig at 17 under Louie's mentorship, to five years later when Roxy supports Louie after she is humiliated on stage by their boss.

There is merit in this production. There are moments when Norgrove and McErlean find both the comedy and poignancy in the characters and the relationship. Norgrove is a bright and confident dancer who is generally credible as the youthful Roxy. McErlean finds moments of ease as the older stripper.

The major problem is the uninspired direction. Scene transitions are clumsy and characters act out their stories awkwardly.

The lighting (James Clavering, Joe Coleman) could have assisted the performance further with greater variety and by closing down the space to create a more distinct spotlit strip club stage.

The strip scenes are graphic 'exotic dancing' but they are accompanied by some moving and politically enlightened dialogue.

However, if you are coy about full frontal nudity, this may not be the show for you.

By Kate Herbert

Pixels in the Picture by Robert Reid , Sept 9, 2000

Theatre in Decay

at The Storeroom Parkview Hotel until September 16, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Short plays in novel locations with limited number of audience are the signature for Robert Reid's company, Theatre in Decay.

 In the last few months they have performed in a Backpackers' hotel, in an art gallery and now Pixels in the Picture is set in two small rooms above a pub in Fitzroy.

Reid's writing for this monologue is abstract, edgy, philosophical with witty or poignant observations on the modern world. He draws eclectic themes and images together in a style reminiscent of 20th century European directors such as Grotowski and Artaud.

What is fascinating in the form is that, in the two little rooms, the same monologue is being performed simultaneously by two different actors. (Telia Nevile, Elliot Summers)  Reid allows them different interpretations.

The character is a graffiti artist with a difference. He she was once a pavement chalk artist, hence his/her name, Rembrandt. Now Rembrandt is shut into a room painted white like an asylum cell. In here, he/she obsessively fills the white paper-covered floor with binary code: various combinations of the digits one and zero.

Rembrandt now uses texta, not chalk. "It's more permanent." All Rembrandt's secret revolutionary actions are a wry commentary on the dehumanisation of the modern world and the insanity of quiet rebellion.

Strangely, by the second viewing, the dialogue, although exactly the same, seemed to be different and my hearing was selective. We are compelled to look at the "pixels", the details the second time.

 Summers, in room, one invaded our space. He leaned over audience members eye to eye, nose to nose, ranting about his mental state, telling stories and scrawling numbers.

Nevile's is a more meditative performance, more of a story-telling.

Both are dressed in blue worker's overalls. Both have a minder, a controller in the corner, manipulating the bare white and red light-bulbs, leaving us in darkness for periods of time.

The presentation and form are as important as the content in Pixels. A dice is thrown in the foyer. One lucky audient saw both pieces alone in a room separate to the rest of us.

Pixels is well-performed, intelligently directed intimate theatre.

By Kate Herbert

Pure Escapism, Sept 9, 2000

by  Scott Gooding

at Storeroom Parkview Hotel until September 23, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Pure Escapism, a solo play written and performed by Scott Gooding, is yet another venture at the Storeroom, a new venue above the Parkview Hotel, Fitzroy.

A young man is locked in a room alone with only an enormous pile of comic books, an ant and a bowl of rice. It seems to be his job in some peculiar way. He does no collating or even reading of the comics.

Occasionally he receives a new one by "air mail" of sorts. His imaginary friend , Bob, raps on the door intermittently and annoyingly, and sends flying in a new superhero comic.

Yes, Pure Escapism is abstract and bizarre but only partially successful in its present form. Gooding's script is a little too obtuse and lacks a coherent structure.

There are some funny moments and some poignant ones. The man befriends a stray ant he finds on his bowl of cold white rice. He names him Solitaire after one of his favourite Superheroes. When Bob insists, by knocking furiously, that the ant must be eliminated, the young man tearfully squashes Solitaire in his hand.

Oddly, considering the publicity for this show, there is very little reference to the comic books, their heroes and narratives. It is disappointing to be surrounded by the books and heroic posters but to see and hear so little of their bizarre content that obsesses this character.

In fact, the main story he tells is a fairy story about a princess an old man. Why tell this tale when you have Captain Marvel and Aquaman?

Director, Malcolm Berry, highlights the frustration and anger in this character who lives in such isolation and on the edge of lunacy.

At times there is far too much shouting from Gooding who appears tense. The show will be much more watchable when he relaxes into the role.

The play, written in 1991, has seen several edits since then. It might enjoy some further dramaturgical work. 

By Kate Herbert

th International Women's Playwrights' Festival Readings, Sept 9, 2000

5th International Women's Playwrights' Festival Readings

at Beckett Theatre Saturday September 9, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Eleven plays written by Melbourne's women are travelling to Athens in October for the 5th International Women's Playwrights' Festival. These plays are  presented once only in Melbourne for our delectation.

The two part program lasted for over five and a half hours so let's stick with part One. Most pieces in this showcase are rehearsed readings of excerpts from full length plays. The first, The Girl Who Wanted To Be God, was the only one to be presented in its entirety.

The play is written by a trio, Karen Corbett, Rosemary Johns and Brenda Palmer (all) who also appear in the piece with Gillian Hardy. Its subject is the fraught and tragic life of American poet, Sylvia Plath who published a book of poetry, married Ted Hughes, left him and put her head in a gas oven with the flame off.

This is an episodic, abstract and poetic script in which the three women simultaneously play Sylvia at all ages as the child, writer and mother. It is interesting and evocative and still in development say the writers.

Smashing Pancakes is a Youth Theatre play written by Sarah Vincent for Mainstreet Theatre and performed here and in Athens by a contracted cast of five teenagers from Rushworth College. It is a funny, well-observed slice of country town life with no holds barred.

The kids get drunk and have sex with strangers, throw rocks at neighbours houses and complain about their families who eventually get taken by aliens. Every kid's dream.

Ruthed by Marita Wilcox is a play set in the cut-throat world of a Public Relations Company focussing on the ruthless behaviour of the women who work in it. It has some clever moments but the dialogue is glib and the story predictable.

The strength of Streetsweeper by Liz Goldman is in the potent performance by Gillian Hardy as a derelict woman on the street, reminiscing about her marriage, children and mental illness.

Crossing the Bridge, by Gaylene Carbis, is compelling in parts. It paints a picture of an isolated country town when a middle-aged son visits his elderly parents to confront them about his childhood abuse. The parents live in denial. The son is hamstrung by his pain.

The remaining six plays are by Jeannie Haughton, Suzanne Spunner, Margaret Bearman, Angela Costi, Marjorie Darling-Ward and Nik Willmott.

By Kate Herbert

Love Letters by A. R. Gurney, Sept 7, 2000

Love Letters by A. R. Gurney

 at Chapel off Chapel until September 16, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

It is a joy to see actors without the trappings of lighting, special effects, costumes or even stage action, to clutter or interfere with their craft. To be specific, it is a joy when the actors are as skilful as Maggie Millar and Alan Hopgood and the dialogue is as well-crafted as that of US playwright, A. R. Gurney.

Love Letters was performed by various Australian theatrical couples during the last few years. It is a powerful, funny and moving rehearsed reading of a series of very personal letters between a man and a woman as they grow from adolescence and early attraction to late middle age.

There is something passionate, intimate and secretive about a letter-writing relationship. There is no eye contact so the words must be vivid and the reader's first response is unseen, his or her perception is unpredictable and the interpretation is often complex.

Even the shyest writer can express strong emotion in a letter. Love can be declared, promises made - and just as easily broken in the delay between correspondence.

In this case, the gaps between letters spread out into years. Sometimes, after the two married, they amounted only to xeroxed Christmas greetings and birthday cards.

The pair are opposites from an early age. Although both come from middle class families, Melissa (Millar ) is from substantial wealth and Andy (Hopgood) from moderate comfort. Andy is straight, loved by his conservative parents and shipped off to boys schools for his own good, to row and study Racine.

Melissa is shipped off for different reasons. Her mother is a drunk and a serial divorcee. Melissa is a tragedy waiting to happen. She describes herself in later life when the two finally consummate their love, as a "boozed-out, cynical, lascivious old broad". Andy, in contrast, is a stalwart citizen, a Republican senator with a stable and dull marriage and children.

Millar and Hopgood sit in upright chairs, script in hand, but the lives and loves of these two adorable characters are palpable. We hear their joy and pain, we hope for a reunion and a cure for Melissa's alcoholism, we pray they will not marry their silly spouses and we romanticise the possibilities of the life they never lived together.

We all have those dreams of past loves to repent.

By Kate Herbert

Dog Farm by Back to Back Theatre, Sept 6, 2000

At La Mama until September 17, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Dog farm is an exciting, funny and insightful collection of three short plays by Back to Back Theatre which is visiting La Mama from Geelong.

These idiosyncratic plays are generated by the five members of the ensemble with directors, Bruce Gladwin and Marcia Ferguson and writer, Julianne O'Brien.

The themes are universal, the characters represent Everyman and Everywoman. The dialogue is pared down to the essentials, creating spare, simple but often incisive observations of human foibles, love, humour and anger.

Part of the unusual quality of the plays and their style is due to the nature of the company and its members. Back to Back comprises five actors with various intellectual disabilities and a great deal of professional/community theatre experience.

There is a quirky, almost French absurdist, lateral quality to the material and its delivery. Each actor has a distinctive style and their individual obsessions are central to the three pieces. Obsession makes good theatre.

In Sally and Bunce, Sally (Nicki Holland) wants marry and she doesn't care who. Bunce (Darren Riches)  warns her he will drink, hit her and abandon her. "I still want to marry you," snaps Sally. She is hounded by her harridan of a mother. (Rita Halabarec) They marry. It's a disaster. They separate.

Porn Star is not about pornography but about a conservative cleaning woman (guest actor, Noel Jordan)  who cleans the house of an erotic film-maker (Sonia Teuben) and finds her hidden sexuality.

Cow is a vehicle for first-class ham actor, Mark Deans Deans is a consummate clown who takes two simple comic ideas and makes a meal of them. He argues with unruly light bulbs and, like a vaudeville magician, he pulls toy farm animals out of a case then moos and roars into a microphone making the animals leap. It is inexplicable and hilarious.

Music is an integral part of the show. David Franzke's soundscape in Sally and Bunce is exceptional. David Watts and Hugh Covill's compositions are atmospheric.

Clever and simple direction by Gladwin and Ferguson is brisk, stylish and stylised.

The actors look like art works in costumes by Graham Long. They are like eccentric mannequins in a French dada cabaret in the 1920s. Get a look at this show.

By Kate Herbert

The Victor by Adam May, Aug 31, 2000

La Mama at The Courthouse until September 16, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert , 3 Aug 2000

The Victor is actually a play about a Victa lawn mower, circa 1952, which became an Aussie icon along with the Hill's Hoist.

The title refers not only to the pet name given to the mower by Jack (John Flaus) and his family, but to a battle of ownership over the mower. The victor gets the mower.

Jack treats his Victa like a member of the family. He generally gives more attention to Victor than he does to either his wife, Alma (Maureen Hartley) or his adolescent daughter, Kathy. (Donna Matthews)

Jack is retired from his job with a lawn mowing franchise, Autosmooth, but he still mows his neighbour, Mrs. Crimmins lawn on Sunday. Until she dies and her estranged American son arrives for the funeral and to claim the mower his mother lent to Jack 30 years ago.

Victor resides in the living room, is treated fondly, talked to, given a paint job and a lube and finally is hidden in Jack and Alma's bedroom to avoid being taken by his proclaimed real owner, Mal. (Chris Fortuna)

The family is quite mad. The play is absurd in style and all five characters are broad clown-like caricatures rather than three-dimensional personalities.

May, who also directed the play, draws on Australian stereotypes. Mum is church-going, ironing her tea towels and smoothing any ruffled tempers in the home. 

She craves travel away from this suburban nightmare so she obsessively buys boxes of breakfast cereal in order to win a trip to Europe, the second prize in a competition. First prize is a trip to Asia. Alma's nose crinkles with distaste at the thought of Puket and Malaysia in the best racist Aussie way.

The premise has comic potential, but May's script is not a complete  success. It circles around, hunting for a centre. Characters repeat themselves, and the laughs are more commonly from the actors quirky interpretations of character than from jokes in the dialogue.

The actors work hard but it looks like too much effort and they seem uncomfortable much of the time. They are most effective when they drop inside these weird characters rather than demonstrating and shouting to make them work.

May's direction leaves them clattering around on stage in a big empty space and he needs to find an effective comic style. Several more performances might allow the piece to relax a little.

By Kate Herbert

BATS in the Belfry in San Francisco, Aug 30, 2000

BATS in the Belfry in San Francisco

Writer: Kate Herbert

Aug 30, 2000

Improvising is the most fun you can have with your clothes on. We play games, make up stories and pretend to be other people. Doctors might call this mental illness. For improvisors, it's a lifestyle.

When we collected Keith Johnstone from San Francisco airport, he didn't look like an improvisation guru. The masterly theatre improvisation teacher, writer of 'Impro' and inventor of Theatresports had trouble staying awake. 

Not because we, his impro students, bored him, but because of some soporific medication.

Johnstone travelled Europe with his impro troupe, Theatre Machine, then settled in the town least likely: Calgary, Canada, known for cowboys not comedy.

His comedy improvisation invention, Theatresports, mutated over the Pacific en route to Australia. Calgary provided no show format to Sydney producer, Dennis Watkins at Belvoir Street Theatre, so he improvised. 

Two teams became eight, scenes had time limits, a comedian hosted and tossed Minties, judges were ruthless, teams gladiatorial, fighting tooth and nail for a finals cup. It was AFL with jokes but no firm bums in shorts.

In Melbourne, the furore died down after the late 80s when 2000 people attended grand finals. The format and objectives of Theatresports Melbourne are now closer to Johnstone's original vision. Two of us even travelled 12,000 kilometres to attend a week-long workshop with Keith in August.

 Bay Area Theatresports, (BATS) San Francisco runs an Improv Summer School each year since 1993. Week one is a six day intensive with Keith for experienced players. Week Two, taught by BATS coaches, covers improvised Shakespeare, song, mask and story-telling.

'Be ordinary," says Keith at the school. "Don't be creative." It sounds simple but it is difficult not to want to be clever on stage. Cleverness may make you funny or popular but does not necessarily make a good scene.

"It was very entertaining but I only saw a couple of good scenes tonight," said Johnstone. He dislikes the show-business, gaggy quality that typifies our shows.

"Don't try to improvise. Pay attention to what is happening," he says.  "Try to think, 'What does the audience want?' and give it to them." 

Keith likes naughty, relaxed improvisors. "Don't be well-behaved, Be good-natured and michievous and make my life difficult." 

BATS founder and company member, William Hall, calls Keith a theatrical treasure. "His books and pamphlets have the most practical advice about improvisation that anyone has written."

Dean of the BATS Improv School, Rebbecca Stockley,  started working with Keith in 1985 in Seattle before moving to San Francisco to help set up BATS. 

She says, "Keith's work moves improvisational theatre from the realm of light entertainment to powerful theatre. His theories and approach make good improvisors great improvisors. Keith's style makes it possible to create stories on stage collaboratively in real time."

What we lack in Melbourne is the coherent and stable environment of a theatre company that can support its improvisors as BATS does. 

BATS is improvisor's heaven. They have their own theatre at the Marina overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. Shows run Thursday to Sunday and classes most days. 

The company is rigorous and expects its members to participate fully in all aspects of BATS: performing, teaching, skills development, corporate work, development of new work.

The core company comprises 23 players who also teach. There are also intermediate and novice groups. Those accepted into the novices must attend a minimum 72 hours of classes and even then there is no guarantee of passing onto stage. 

Shades of Johnstone and BATS are seeping into Melbourne Theatresports shows. Who knows what you might see in the Grand Final this week.

By Kate Herbert

Jumping Mouse, Aug 27, 2000

By John Bolton Trades Hall until September 3, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

There is nothing more satisfying than a single actor in an empty space weaving a spell using only his physical and vocal skill to create characters and tell a story. Such is John Bolton's Jumping Mouse.

This solo show, directed by Neil Cameron,was first performed in Edinburgh in 1980. After touring internationally throughout the 80s, it is enjoying a revival.

Jumping Mouse is based on a NavajoIndian myth about a myopic mouse that leaves his fearful mouse family to find the great river and finally the Sacred Mountain.

He is helped in his epic quest by a territorial raccoon, a wise frog, a galloping buffalo and a lisping wolf. This story follows the classic hero's journey format of so many tribal myths. The mouse meets creatures who are his mentors, he confronts trials and monsters only to face his fate in the final scene.

It is a story of a simple creature seeking knowledge, experience and change in his life journey. The raccoon teaches him that the noise in his head is the mighty river. the frog send shim to the mountain and the buffalo carries him to his destination.

Through his willingness, generosity and naivete being transformed into one of the majestic eagles who terrified his mousy family.

Bolton first appears as a derelict traveller, wheeling his worldly goods in a battered pram. The character is eccentric, dignified and tells the Jumping Mouse story amongst various diversions into songs, poems, spoon playing and ritual brewing of tea.

Bolton is a consummate performer. His physical and vocal control is impeccable and his comic timing and character detail are both faultless. His relationship with the audience is intimate and his stage persona both charming and disarming.

He shifts effortlessly between characters in a split second and makes a complex acting process appear simple.

Cameron's direction in conjunction with Bolton's performance demystifies the theatrical process, allowing us intermittently to see the mechanics of the show when he comments on the actor's process and relationship to the viewer.

This is accessible and skilful theatre suitable for, although not designed for, families. It is a poignant parable for life told by an idiot.

By Kate Herbert

The River Project, Aug 27, 2000

By John Britton & Hilary Elliott

 La Mama, Carlton until  September 3, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

The River Project is the second show this week about a life's journey performed by a solo male actor in a virtually empty space. He tells the story of Jake, an Australian farmer born in 1901 who turned beatnik, hippy and, finally, gypsy.

Britton narrates Jake's life in both first and third person using poetic narrative and wry observation. He adds to the mix a subtle and simple movement vocabulary and a single musician, Dan Witton on double bass, who improvises throughout the show. Each night a different musician plays with Britton. Each night the show is changed.

There is nothing on stage with the actor apart form a series of grotesque white masks dangling like dead men from the ceiling. The actor and the character are constantly surrounded by death masks somehow representing the rambling path of Jake's life scattered with people lost in his past.

Britton is a relaxed and warm presence in the tiny La Mama space. When his CD of ambient river sounds malfunctioned, he continued without it with a gentle quip to the audience. The silence worked. Who knows how the river would add to the atmosphere.

Of course, the show is called The River Project so we can only assume that the river soundscape creates a sense of Jake's long and circuitous journey from 1901 away from the Murray River where he grew up.

Britton conceived and devised the project with Hilary Elliott. It peers into the life of an ordinary man whose life went unnoticed for 90 years as he wandered from his farm life to the city, from war in the Pacific to underground Melbourne in 1956, from Berkeley in 1967 to Byron Bay in the 90s where he meets the ocean and his death.

He conjures with small gestures, the titanic stature of Jake,  a muscular man of six foot four. His characterisations are not detailed but mere suggestions of persons unknown. He accompanies the story-telling with repetitive movement that echoes or pre-empts the action. At times it is mesmerising.

Jake's life is like a meandering river. From its gushing forth at its source, it rushes and slows, bends and finally finds its oceanic end. Such is life.

By Kate Herbert

Sweet Road by Debra Oswald, Aug 3, 2000

by Debra Oswald Playbox at Merlin Theatre until August... 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

In our wide brown land, we understand 'being on the road'. We travel vast distances on straight roads between towns separated by hundreds of empty kilometres.

There is a sense of liberation is such journeys and Debra Oswald's bitter-sweet, episodic play, Sweet Road, interweaves several such stories.

Director, Aubrey Mellor, with designer, Kathryn Sproul, keeps the stage open and spacious like the desert roads. Vehicles are wheeled on and characters talk directly to us from behind the wheel, on the roadside, at 'servos' or caravan parks.

The road symbolises escape and fantasy. Each character leaves something behind and looks for fulfilment in an unknown place.

Some follow their dreams. Andy (Steve Greig) is child-like, loving and optimistic to a fault. This engaging, eccentric young man, is crossing the desert with his dog, kids and frustrated wife, Carla (Michaela Cantwell).

He chases a good life and a lucrative racing tip on the road to Merwillumbah. Carla seeks a safety for her children and an end to Andy's unpredictable, unwitting betrayals.

In a caravan park, they meet Frank, (Don Barker) an old bloke who is on a trip helping him escape his wife's sudden death.

Bouncy Yasmin (Elizabeth Friels) pursues the tingling sensations of love. Michael (Dominique Sweeney) escapes the accidental death of his child and the pain in his wife's eyes.

The play starts with Jo, (Victoria Eagger) who hits the road when discovering her husband's infidelity. She obsessively drives north to dispose of his husband's sailing trophy, a poignant act of revenge.

The performances are strong, particularly from Greig who portrays with great details and sympathy, the eccentric Andy. Barker's Frank is warm and truthful while Eagger finds an appropriate hysterical quality in Jo. "Looking for love? It's between 'lying' and 'lust' in the dictionary."

The script is stronger in the second half when it uses less monologue and exposition. Dramatic tension increases with dialogue and crisis. The strongest scene is Frank telling Andy about his wife's death. The play craves moments of silence and stillness.

People seek solace in strangers, find humanity and find themselves away from home. Space open road gives us time to think - unless we're Andy who will never change.

By Kate Herbert

The Importance of Being Earnest, Aug 3, 2000

 By Oscar Wilde

 Princess Theatre from August 24, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde is a very funny play and this Anglo-Australian production boasts a very fine performance from English actress, Patricia Routledge, as the inimitable and legendary Lady Bracknell. Routledge commands attention and has impeccable comic timing.

The play must be presented as a period costume drama but this production is a little dusty. It is inappropriate to update a Wilde play but a production can take some risks.  In this Chichester Festival version, English director, Christopher Morahan, maintains a conservative line throughout.

The Importance of Being Earnest was Wilde's last performed play before he was gaoled on charges related to homosexuality. It is the epitome of Wilde's style. Upper class snobs of the late 19th century compete for the wittiest quips and most foolish behaviour.

Oscar Wilde whimsically noted  his idea of happiness as "absolute power over men's minds, even if accompanied by toothache." His idea of misery was, "living a poor and respectable life in an obscure village."

Indeed, his initially charmed life fulfilled his aspirations. His comedies were popular, he commanded enormous public and private attention with his wit and intellect, he was affluent and acceptably naughty - until his imprisonment.

John Worthing  (Alistair Petrie), posing as a man called Earnest, visits his friend, Algernon (Theo Fraser Steele) and proposes to Gwendolen (Essie Davis). Gwendolen believes she can love only a man called Earnest.

Cecily (Sarah Kants) also wants a husband called Earnest. "There's something in that name that seems to inspire absolute confidence."

The script is riddled with arch dialogue and memorable Wildean epithets. Lady Bracknell: "Never speak disrespectfully of  society. Only people who can't get into it do that."

Wilde mocks the inanities of his own class in the same way Moliere did earlier in France.  His characters are self-centred, acquisitive, conceited, foolish and shallow.  As Gwendolen says, "I never change, except in my affections."

As Gwendolen, Davis is pert and versatile and Kants is credible as the country lass.  Steele is foppish and quirky as Algie, milking the gags mercilessly and Petrie, as Worthing, is a good comic counterpart. Beverley Dunn makes a swift but memorable appearance as the governess, Miss Prism.

This production will succeed because it moves swiftly and makes us laugh. It could, however, do with some loosening of the bolts.

By Kate Herbert

Reserved Seating Only; and Misdirected, July 27, 2000

Best and Fairest (2 plays):

Reserved Seating Only by Peter B Sonenstein, adapted by David Paterson;

Misdirected by Joe Borini;

By Boxing Day Productions

Where and When: Trades Hall July 20 - August 19, 2000

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

Whether you are married to Aussie Rules or you are a football widow who loathes the grip the game has on your spouse, you will enjoy Best and Fairest.

There are two short plays in the program. The first and perhaps the stronger of the pair, is Reserved Seating Only by American playwright, Peter B. Sonenstein directed by Richard Sarell. David Paterson, co-founder of Boxing Day Productions, adapted the play expertly to the Australian context.

He plays Al, a fanatical Essendon support who attends the first game of the season only to find his usual neighbour in the members reserved seating replaced by his missing mate's anti-football wife, Trina (Cecelia Specht). She divorced her husband and took his most treasured possession: his reserved seat ticket. Al is appalled.

Paterson's localisation of the script is intelligent, topical and hilarious. References to Ducklands Stadium's falling metal, crummy turf and bad ticketing are plentiful. He integrates bucket loads of crowd-pleasing epithets, abuse and colloquialisms. "White maggot" is only one.

The beauty of the piece is in the burgeoning relationship between these two undeclared lonely people who find they quite like each other's company.

Al teaches Trina the finer points of the game: commitment, teamwork, sacrifice, elegance. She shows him its incongruities. There is pathos in Trina's need to understand why her husband loved the game more than he loved her.

Both performances are focussed and funny as they are in the second play, Misdirected, written by another American, Joe Borini, and directed by John Higginson. This play does not translate to Australia as successfully as the first.

It is a smart and funny piece about a mail-order bride late in the 19th century, arriving in the remote Victorian Highlands from California to marry an Australian landowner. She arrives at the wrong house in the wrong town with the wrong man.

The humour resides in the miscommunication and mishaps in Misdirected. She is Miss Prim with "the warmth of a lizard and the tact of a hyena" . He is rough and misanthropic. They end up in love of course but it feels a bit like a comic version of Little House on the Prairie.

By Kate Herbert