By Hannie Rayson. Red Stitch Actors Theatre and Geelong Performing Arts Centre. Canberra Theatre Centre. 20 Jul 2016
Animosity between environmentalists and the fossil fuel industry in Australia has been an entrenched part of the country’s social landscape for a long time. However, with the rate, scale and severity of environmental damage escalating dramatically in recent years, tensions between the two sides has never been greater. Despite this, it isn’t often that environmental issues feature so strongly or directly in theatre productions as they do in Extinction.
This is a great shame for two reasons: firstly, the environment and the services it provides underpins human survival; and secondly, the passion which so many people feel towards the environment, and the work they do to protect it, means there is no shortage of dramatic material to work with. Extinction is an eco-drama that tackles this theme head-on, exploring the daunting challenge of preventing, or at least slowing, the extinction of our native fauna.
American zoologist Piper (Ngaire Dawn Fair), and her veterinarian boyfriend Andy (Brett Cousins) are passionate environmentalists working hard to protect native animals through their respective occupations – Piper also works for Andy’s sister Heather (Natasha Herbert) at a university research institute. When the institute is offered a bucketful of cash from charismatic coal miner, Harry (Colin Lane), to carry out his pet conservation project, everyone’s moral compasses are sent spinning out of control.
It is quite ironic that the commissioning of this play was originally funded by the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation – a non-profit organisation founded by an industrialist to educate the public about economics and capitalism, among other things. While Extinction was written with the aim of teasing out the tensions and complexities between environmental preservation and the need to generate electricity for an energy hungry world, there are some assumptions within it that sit a little uneasily.
For example, it seems Piper, the stereotypical ‘manic eco-pixie dream girl’, and Andy’s commitment to environmental conservation is readily labelled as neurotic – simply a result of immaturity and unresolved emotional problems. Conversely, the world-weary Heather and Harry are portrayed as the voices of reason; the realists who know how the world really works. However, the rapid rate at which Harry is able to seduce, corrupt and compromise both Heather and Piper is the real humdinger – an insult to the intelligence and integrity of both women and environmentalists.
These criticisms aside, Extinction is actually an intelligent, intensely gripping piece of theatre. The performances by Fair (who put on an accomplished American accent by the way), Cousins, Herbert and Lane are top shelf and utterly entertaining – with admirably strong teamwork on display as they masterfully navigate the chemistry and complex dynamics between their characters.
Also impressive is the amount of research into the subject matter that was clearly undertaken in writing this play. A great deal of attention is paid to details regarding cultural language, scientific jargon and the current state of affairs more generally regarding these two very different and opposing worlds.
The design team (Shaun Gurton, David Parker and Daniel Nixon) also deserve kudos for their creation of such a slick and sophisticated visual aesthetic. The projected images and authentic soundscapes used to transport the characters from the city to the bush were highly effective, with the big finale admittedly a massive tearjerker.
While succumbing to stereotyping at times, overall Extinction is a reasonably balanced portrayal of the age-old shit-fight between environmental conservation and sustainability and the opportunistic exploitation of earth’s resources. You won’t find any solutions or mended bridges, but at least the issue is being explored in a thoughtful and considered way on such a broad-reaching platform.
Deborah Hawke
When: 20 to 23 July
Where: Canberra Theatre Centre
Bookings: Closed
By Raoul Craemer. The Street Theatre. 25 Jun 2016
Writer Maya Angelou was quoted as saying that “…people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel” – when one doesn’t understand what someone is trying to say, it makes one feel frustrated.
This autobiographical play, written and performed by Raoul Craemer, explores his complex relationship with his nationalistic German paternal grandfather. Already struggling to accept Craemer’s Indian heritage from his mother’s side, his grandfather unleashes his vitriol when family secrets begin to unravel.
While there is nothing wrong with a play being a little cryptic, there is a threshold beyond which it becomes too much work. Audiences are often willing to meet a performer halfway, but when the burden to decode meaning becomes too great it’s hard not to switch off.
There is no doubt that Raoul’s family history is compelling – but it would be much more interesting if it were told in a less obscure and stream of consciousness-type way. In this sense, Pigman’s Lament comes across as unprocessed; a bunch of rambling, random thoughts that have not yet formed a cohesive story.
Adding to the frustration are production issues regarding the line of sight, with Craemer often disappearing out of view to the floor for sizeable chunks of time. With the dialogue difficult enough to follow as it is, having a seemingly abandoned stage to contend with just exacerbates the situation further.
However, a highlight of Pigman’s Lament is the lighting (by Gillian Schwab) and set design (by Christiane Nowak), that facilitates some nightmarish, Hitchcock-esque special effects for the intense moments of confrontation between Craemer and his grandfather.
There are so many potential points of interest to the diverse ACT audience left unexplored in this production. With such rich material to work with, it is a shame that the play ignores these and instead succumbs to rampant introspection. A bigger picture perspective on these life events may have done the trick.
Deborah Hawke
When: 24 Jun to 3 Jul
Where: The Street Theatre
Bookings: thestree.org.au
By Andrew Bovell. State Theatre Company of South Australia and Frantic Assembly. Canberra Theatre Centre. 8 Jun 2016
You’d be hard pressed to find a suburban Australian family struck by as much misfortune as the one at the centre of Things I Know To Be True; what at first ones assumes is a sophisticated take on The Castle, rapidly morphs into a melodrama of epic proportions.
Fran (Eugenia Fragos) and Bob (Paul Blackwell) are the proud working class parents of two grown sons Ben (Nathan O’Keefe) and Mark (Tim Walter) and two grown daughters – Pip (Georgia Adamson) and the youngest, Rosie (Tilda Cobham-Hervey).
Nestled in their home in the coastal suburb of Hallett Cove in South Australia, life is picturesque – or so it seems. Peeling back the façade reveals the hurts, secrets and sacrifices that lay festering beneath the surface like untended wounds fuelling destructive behaviour.
What each member of the family have in common is what a gentleman sitting in the audience succinctly describes as “wanting more” than the comfortable but ultimately dissatisfying lives they lead. As is usually the case, it takes a tragedy for everyone to count their blessings.
Although this all sounds terribly histrionic, their individual and collective stories are compelling and told eloquently. Even more intriguing is the unpredictable and complex ways in which each person responds to the actions of the others – unearthing great depth in the characters and their backstories.
Symbolising the connectedness and support of family, interpretive dance is utilised intermittently to great effect. While often a cringe-worthy medium, in this instance it is a thing of poignant beauty.
Fragos as the fierce matriarch and Blackwell typifying the classic Aussie dad power the production as veteran performers, showcasing accomplished emotional range via their unique dynamics with each other and their onstage brood.
O’Keefe, Walter, Adamson and Cobham-Hervey give strong, yet achingly vulnerable performances – really stretching out the skins of their characters. It can sometimes take a while for actors to fully ease into a role during a play, but in this case all are warmed up and ready from the get-go.
The set, while threadbare, is imaginatively designed (by Geoff Cobham) and greatly enhanced by the warm glow of the intimate, starry lighting. The backyard, dominated by an old gum tree, is emblematic of a childhood familiar to many Australians.
Being a coastal South Australian, it is wonderful to see the state’s own special flavour expressed and celebrated on the stage. Specifically, it’s not often that the southern suburbs of Adelaide are represented through a production of such prestige, so it’s nice to see a spotlight on that charming part of the world.
Things I Know To Be True certainly amps up the drama, but is done so elegantly that one never requires convincing to buy into the story. To the contrary, it is a highly relatable and moving work that provides an abundance of food for thought – and will perhaps leave you with a little more appreciation for your own tribe.
Deborah Hawke
When: 10 to 11 Jun
Where: Canberra Theatre Cnetre
Bookings: canberratheatrecentre.com.au
(Or How I Became a Birdwatcher). By Steve Abbott. The Street Theatre 28 May 2016
I choose to start my review, now: If you listened to Triple J radio or watched Good News Week in the nineties, you’ll be well familiar with Steve Abbott’s alter-ego, The Sandman – that classic Australian character that sounded like a sardonic Bernie Fraser and doled out sound advice to the unpopular.
But like many of our country’s great comedic creations, there came a time when The Sandman persona had run his course and it seemed fit to retire him from public life; well, easier said than done. What Happened to Sandman (Or How I Become a Birdwatcher) is about Abbott’s struggle to untangle his identity from a character that defined him and stubbornly clung to his side.
While grabbing a drink ten minutes before the show is about to start, the sound of Abbott at the microphone booms through the door of Street Two. Worriedly checking with staff that the show hasn’t started early, they shake their head and smile – it’s just Abbott’s quirky way of breaking the ice and the formality of the atmosphere, and it works a treat.
The show proper is a whimsical exploration of Abbott’s years of embodying The Sandman. Commencing with a candid backgrounder on the birth of this persona, the show continues on through his reigning moments and eventual free-fall brought on by flogging a subversive character that’s past its use-by date to a mainstream audience.
Admittedly, it is surprising to witness how different Abbott is from The Sandman: upbeat, quick-witted and incredibly genial, with a real talent for bird calling. As a performer in his own right he is engaging, working the crowd like a boss and creating a warm and relaxed atmosphere – even rounding off the evening with a friendly farewell at the door.
The skits peppered throughout the tight, hour or so show are also an absolute delight – taking full advantage of being in the capital with the obligatory Canberra gibes (it’s ok, we’re used to it). Really hamming it up, Abbott took riffing to a whole new level and absolutely revelled in it.
What Happened to Sandman (Or How I Become a Birdwatcher) is a personal experience of letting go, and a story about the unexpected but fulfilling paths in life one takes while navigating through that process. Rest assured though that The Sandman legacy will live on in the hearts of the generations that were lucky enough to experience such a defining, golden age of comedy in this country.
Gone but not forgotten.
Deborah Hawke
When: 28 to 29 May
Where: The Street Theatre
Bookings: Closed
Belvoir. The Canberra Theatre Centre. 4 May 2016
Women in various cultures over many eras of human history have had to put up with inequality - and where there is women’s inequality alongside a lack of social support for the vulnerable, there is a subsequent, dignity stripping dependence on men. But while that scenario may seem like it’s all power, whisky and cigars for the male of the species, The Glass Menagerie demonstrates how inequality takes its toll on everyone involved.
Although The Glass Menagerie was written in the more oppressive 1940s America, there are still echoes of these out-dated social practices that cast a shadow in the developed world in the present day. And so it serves as a useful cultural indicator of how far we’ve come, and how far we still have to go.
Loosely autobiographical, Tennessee Williams' The Glass Menagerie tells the story of the Wingfield family who have been abandoned by their flaky father and husband, Mr Wingfield. As a single mother, Amanda Wingfield (Pamela Rabe) is now desperately trying to keep her dysfunctional family afloat, while adapting to a life much less comfortable than she is accustomed to.
Amanda’s children, Tom (Luke Mullins) and the painfully shy Laura (Rose Riley), are a constant source of worry for her, but her concern is overbearing. While Tom is trying his best to suppress his desire to escape his suffocating reality and focus on providing for his family, Laura’s inability to find a husband to support her is becoming a burden on them – leaving Tom with no choice but to bring home workmate Jim O’Connor (Harry Greenwood) to dinner as a “gentleman caller” for his peculiar sister.
In the spirit of the original intent for The Glass Menagerie back in the 40s, the design crew have innovatively harnessed all the benefits of modern digital technology to create a dynamic aesthetic on the traditional ‘set within a set’. In this respect, Mullins also takes on the role of roaming cameraman, quietly capturing the intimate, vulnerable moments of his mother and sister in close up and broadcasting it on a set of screens in dreamy black and white for the audience.
The lighting for this play is also glorious, coming as close to the variations of natural light as you could possibly get. The morning sun shining through the Wingfield’s little apartment is so realistic that it makes you want to wander onto the stage to bathe in it a while.
But while the visual aspect of The Glass Menagerie is impressive, its impact is only as effective as the performers bringing it to life – and Rabe, Mullins, Riley and Greenwood are the dream team for the job, with each having their own moments throughout the play to shine. The cast provoke an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the generosity of their performances, which take them on a rollercoaster of explosive emotions punctuated by moments of unrelenting fragility and exposure. Totally within their characters' skins, they are utterly fascinating in their portrayals.
The Glass Menagerie is not a feel-good play by any stretch of the imagination, though there are plenty of laughs throughout, but it is a powerful one that taps into a place deep within. It is a play about quiet desperation flowing over, and the constraints of social circumstances that bring out the worst in people – something most people can relate to on some level.
Deborah Hawke
When: 6 to 7 May
Where: Canberra Theatre Centre
Bookings: canberratheatrecentre.com.au