STARC productions. Bakehouse Theatre. 18 Jul 2019
The absurdist plays of American, David Ives are little known in Australia, says director Tony Knight in his eccentric onstage role as breathless drama lecturer and, er, bell-ringer.
STARC is presenting five of Ives' short plays from his collection All in The Timing. And, indeed, for the two performers, Stefanie Rossi and Marc Clement, it is all in the timing. It is fast and furious and lateral and stopwatch. It is machine gun fire, reactive, nonsensical, wise, witty, imaginative and generally fairly unexpected. Thank dog for performers of the calibre of Rossi and Clement. The whole thing would struggle without such timing and dramatic agility. They are a dauntingly brilliant team.
The Bakehouse stage is dressed with lines of folding screens, several tables and chairs and is snappily lit by Stephen Dean. Knight occupies one table for the first play, Sure Thing, which is a zany, quick reflex exercise in alternative reactions. Knight pings the shop bell to cue the segues in the evolving alternative conversations between a couple meeting in a cafe. It is quick and clever and lots of fun.
In Variations on the Death of Trotsky, Clement appears with a comic false nose and a wig embedded with a mountaineering axe and proceeds to demonstrate imagined variations on the theme of Trotsky’s death the day after the axe attack. Nasturtiums and pratfalls. Rossi, with a lovely clipped Russian accent, is a fine foil as his wife. Again, fast, funny and eccentric.
English Made Simple played games with pickup lines at parties, the potency and potential prescience of first impressions. Rossi and Clement throw introductory lies at each other like spit-balls. What’s in a name? Names rattle rapier-like off the tongue and one wonders.
Long Ago and Far Away is a deeply existential and rather dark and longer piece. The audience, used to the verbal acrobatics of the earlier pieces, grows restless, and then thrills at the artistry of the ending. Director Knight, rushing around onstage to set up the next playlet, suggests that audience members talk among themselves about it. “We don’t understand it, either,” he jests.
The Universal Language is the grand and gorgeous finale. A stutterer seeks fluency in a new language. Rossi stutters, with the same expertise with which she does everything else and Clement as teacher in red fez talks in a complicated zany gibberish in which all manner of bizarre words and names may or may not be elicited. It is a very funny, clever, and touching little work - and a tour de force by the two wonderful actors.
This torrent of entertaining absurdity is over in only 75 intense minutes, and the audience erupts out to the bar to drink to the pleasure of the experience.
Samela Harris
When: 18 to 27 Jul
Where: Bakehouse Theatre
Bookings: bakehousetheatre.com
State Theatre Company of SA. Dunstan Playhouse. 16 Jul 2019
There are those nights in the theatre when one feels greatness in the room. Special nights.
The opening night of State Theatre’s A View from the Bridge was one such. Not only is Arthur Miller’s play a superbly written work which endures the decades almost flawlessly but also because this is one helluva production in which Mark Saturno gives one of those breathtaking once-in-a-lifetime performances. He is pure, passionate, focused and connected.
While his years in America may have honed a nigh-perfect Brooklyn accent, there is only heart and the insight of human otherness which could underscore Saturno’s devastating bravura performance as Eddie Carbone, the complex anti-hero of this now-classic tragedy. Saturno is Eddie and his frustrations and fixations sear into the audience's emotional core.
After their positive storm of applause, opening night audience members were turning to each other to further share the wow factor, pausing on the stairs, unready to let it go. They had just experienced a grand melodramatic climax, one which could be looked upon as an aged narrative cliché. Everyone knew it had to be coming. And yet their hearts had been in their mouths. They were, as one, gripped by the unbearable inevitability of it all.
Director Kate Champion may now preen her feathers at delivering this fabulous piece of theatre with such intensity and freshness. Supporting her vision, Jason Sweeney’s skills provide a masterful soundscape, just there insightfully highlighting moments and never ever showing off. As for Victoria Lamb's set: it is utterly brutalistic. One could not call it likeable at all. It is a towering maze of marine ropes and pulleys with box frames of assorted sizes which can lift and lower, but are grouped together not only for the impression of a harsh working waterfront but also as the play's claustrophobic slum tenement in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge. Champion has allowed nothing to soften its austerity, not even Beatrice’s tablecloth or coffee pot. There are no props apart from one chair’s brief but pertinent appearance; just the effects of Chris Petridis’s moody lighting which provides a misty depth of field to that hulking great set. The actors have to clamber through and over it, hanging off the ropes and dragging bits of it here and there to suggest seating. It seems perilous hard work at times and yet one finds oneself accepting its heartless aesthetic. The conviction of the characterisations has captured the imagination.
Superb performances emerge from all the cast members as they deliver Miller's story of illegal immigrants, family, Italian cultural mores, love, and emotional fixations. The play may have been written and set in the 1950s, but the themes remain apposite. Indeed, (spoiler alert) the once-controversial homosexual moment is actually quite electric as delivered in this stunner of an interpretation.
Elena Carapetis continues to thrill as a consummate actor, here playing Eddie’s wife, a loving, welcoming, and stoic soul playing host to her cousins from Italy. She suffers in the shadow of her husband’s mawkish preoccupation with her orphaned niece, Catherine. Where the script does not give words to her plight, Carapetis’ face communicates riven private emotions. She adorns the stage with exquisite nuance and, at the play’s most terrible ending, she is the power of human grief. She’s a worthy foil to the dramatic might of Mark Saturno and vice versa.
The only muted presence onstage is Bill Allert as Alieri, the lawyer. He lurks in the shadows among the ropes and boxes, coming sometimes front of stage as chorus to extrapolate and sometimes being sage to rein in the emotional turmoil of Eddie Carbone.
Antoine Jelk has been well cast as the blond Italian pretty boy Rodolfo who steals the heart of his ingenuous cousin Catherine. He has come illegally to the US with his brother Marco, to find a better life. Jelk develops the character effortlessly albeit his accent is just a tad unspecific. Dale March plays the dark horse of the cast, his desperate brother Marco, who slaves to send money to his wife and sickly starving children. March plays Marco as a gaunt powerhouse, credible and pitiable. Meanwhile, Maiah Stewardson bounces blithely as Catherine, the impressionable teenage fly in the ointment of psycho-sexual family tensions. She delivers a character of naiveté and wilfulness, skittish and sweet. Arthur Miller could have asked for no more.
And nor could Adelaide.
This production is simply breathtaking, a Champion's winner.
Samela Harris
When: 16 Jul to 3 Aug
Where: Dunstan Playhouse
Bookings: bass.net.au
Bakehouse Theatre. 10 July 2019
There on the black Bakehouse stage stands the blondewood double bass. Large and solitary. Waiting for its player, its purpose.
Or so one may assume on entering the theatre.
But then Eddie Morrison arrives in the character of the nameless double bassist of German playwright Patrick Suskind’s one-hander script. He’s a dishevelled fellow with a couple of beers in hand and he soon makes it clear that they’re just the starter drinks. He has a cocktail bar beside his record player and, as he plays snatches of classical music, he pours, mixes and consumes a daunting assortment of drinks.
He expounds comprehensively on the role of the double bass in the orchestra. There can be no orchestra without it, he avows. It is more important than the conductor. It is the cornerstone. And yet, alone, it is bereft of compositions. And it is destined to dwell at the back of the orchestra.
It is from there that this double bassist has fallen in love with Sarah, the soprano. Unrequited love. She has never noticed him. The drunker he gets, the more vehemently he laments his lack of love. What woman would want him, he moans. And, it’s a good question. He’s an histrionic loser.
Morrison takes his shortcomings on board with a passion. He descends into a wallowing mass of musical facts. He rattles off streams of composer names and snatches of biographical minutiae. Dittersdorf is a goodie. Schubert is a love. Mozart is overrated. He draws chalk diagrams on the black walls. He drinks and slumps.
Oddly, he barely plays his double bass at all. It stands there on stage, a huge pale presence. One starts to pity it. And, indeed, as the play progresses, the bassist gives one cause. Theirs is a deeply sad and dysfunctional symbiosis.
It’s a strange and surprising play, sensitively directed here by Lisa Harper Campbell with wonderful lighting and sound by Stephen Dean.
Catch it if you can.
Samela Harris
When: 10 to 20 July
Where: Bakehouse Theatre
Bookings: bakehousetheatre.com
Matt Byrne Media. Arts Theatre. 9 Jul 2019
In 1992 Australian screens were graced with an unlikely multi award winning romantic comedy from film director Baz Luhrmann. Strictly Ballroom dives into the world of competitive ballroom dancing in Australia as it brings together unlikely partners Scott, the award winning open-amateur, and Fran, the beginner, to try and win the Pan Pacific Championships on their own terms.
The well-worn tale sees the duo from opposite sides of the tracks challenge the status quo, fall in love, and discover what is truly important to them – living and dancing from the heart.
In 2014, the musical version of that film premiered in Sydney.
Director/Designer Matt Byrne has cast two wonderful young performers in the lead roles of his production. Kurt Benton plays Scott Hastings and dances rings around the stage. He is a spectacular dancer and has taken to the ballroom style with ease. As his dance partner Fran, Kate Harrison is a shining light. Harrison brings an instant presence to the stage whenever she graces it. Her performance is measured and connected, and when she sings everything else fades away. Harrison and Benton’s duets are just delightful.
The film famously balances the farcical, overplayed Australian-isms with beautifully drawn, honest characters and an enduring love story. Byrne’s cast successfully captures the comedy of the piece but, despite Benton and Harrison’s hard work, the love story is thwarted by the writing.
The evolution of Scott and Fran’s relationship is virtually non-existent in this musical adaptation. Despite well-known songs like Time After Time, and Love Is In The Air tugging at the heart strings, the romantic arc for the two is underdeveloped; one minute Scott seems almost to despise Fran, the next he is confessing his love for her.
The complexity of mounting a show which requires such specialist dancing skills cannot be understated. Here Byrne and his choreography team of Tara Johnston and Thomas Coghlan have excelled. The ensemble dancers are well drilled in the ballroom dancing style and the untrained ballroom dancers easily mix it with some of South Australia’s competitive best.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the mix of singers. The adaptation is already lacking in memorable numbers and unfortunately, with the exception of the leads Benton and Harrison who carry the show, the singing by the supporting cast is very hit and miss.
Musical Director Jessie Budel’s orchestra sounded a tad strained on occasion during this performance; the balance of dialogue, music, and ensemble levels was patchy and often wasn’t hitting its mark. Anne Williams has created a stunning array of costumes however, and much of the visual success of the show rests on the spectacular outfits. Byrne has designed some standout scenes in this production where all of the elements including the lighting design by Rodney Bates (operated by Mike Phillips) work perfectly together. Most notable is the rooftop dance rehearsal where Scott and Fran first sing Time After Time.
The larger-than-life cast is full of characters that will warm your heart, and take you on a pleasant trip down memory lane.
Strictly Ballroom plays at the Arts theatre until the 13th of July before moving to the Sheldey Theatre at Elizabeth from July 18 to 27.
Paul Rodda
When: 4 to 27 Jul
Where: Arts Theatre & Shedley Theatre
Bookings: mattbyrnemedia.com.au
No Strings Attached. Space Theatre. 3 Jul 2019
With one of the most interesting titles in showbiz, Alirio Zavarce’s production for No Strings Attached gently raised the roof with its Australian premiere performance at the Space Theatre.
This disability-theatre show lines up six performers with a history of memory issues under the direction of devisor and dramaturg, Zavarce, to present separately and together accounts of the frustrations and ensuing humour of diverse disabilities.
In a work about problem memory, the fluency and proficiency with often challenging sets of lines are both triumphant and ironic. The cast seems word-perfect albeit that Zavarce warns the audience that it may not remember things and, anyway, who does remember things and isn’t it strange how remembered things can change? Thus, in essence, this theatrical piece turns out to be a wonderfully complex philosophical exercise to which absolutely everyone can relate. It also is explanatory of various aspects of memory damage, from stroke to trauma. The protagonists tell things their way.
For Adelaide’s theatre community, the return to the stage of actress Michaela Cantwell to tell her story is a sensational highlight. Cantwell was a golden and beloved talent on the Australian stage before a catastrophic stroke forced her to re-learn even the most basic things in life. Here, under the tender directorship of Zavarce, she tells simply and powerfully the story of that shocking disconnection and the process of retraining her body to the most fundamental obedience. There is no self-pity in this tale, just a wise sense of fatalism. She does not know her future but it will be great, she avows. Everyone cheers because already it is great. She is here onstage again and if there is one thing adversity has not stolen from her, it is that magic thing called “stage presence”.
Kathryn Hall is an old hand with No Strings, which company is now 25 years old. She's an infectiously bubbly performer and as a primary-memory tale, she tells of the joy of cooking stuffed peppers because they remind her of her father. She also reminds the audience about the importance of noting the numbers of the bus on which one rides. Wrong number can take one anywhere. She knows.
But it is Kym Mackenzie who has the bus memories wrapped up with bus route numbers and fares and times. As he tells his public transport tale, the numbers mount up as projections on the sliding panels behind him until he is standing in front of a veritable crowd of numerals. This device of flowing memory projections on panels and backdrop big screen is fundamental to the show’s design. The No Strings tech team, affectionately known as the “creatives”, has engendered further life and zest to the show with this artful lighting, sound and image.
Cassie Litchfield’s profile presentation is heartbreaking. Standing in front of these projection panels, she shares childhood happy snaps, warm and fuzzy memories of loving days with her father, before mental illness tore their world apart and left her childhood scarred with pain.
Duncan Luke completes the cast with his account of things remembered and forgotten. He’s one for losing things: cigarettes, the remote, even his mother. His list is long and droll.
Zavarce binds together the facets of the show in a heartfelt, deeply touching existential reflection. Memory is common to us all. It is each one of us, flawed and fabulous. Everyone forgets, some more than others. Some through accident and illness. Some forget their own identity. What we must do, says Zavarce, is make sure not only to remember each other, but to remember for each other whenever we can.
He brings up the house lights so the cast and audience can look each other in the eye, imprint the experience on their memories, and share a meaningful moment.
He philosophises about the pain and beauty of memory, the associations which engender memories, the cruelties of life, and the importance of finding and offering understanding, patience and solace. It is altogether beautiful and profound, in a very significant night of theatre from an exceptional company.
Samela Harris
When: 3 to 6 Jul
Where: Space Theatre
Bookings: bass.net.au