Therry Theatre. Arts Theatre. 25 Mar 2023
After all the daring newness of our massive Fringe and Festival shows, it is a comforting delight to sit down in an old-school matinee of quietly clever, well-presented local theatre.
The title of this Roger Hall play is the key to its plot. For all the expertise of the Italian caffeine tradition, the “flat white” is not a coffee Italy serves. Asking for a “flat white" abroad presents an hospitality impasse which reveals the asker’s antipodean culture. Hence, “Four Flat Whites In Italy” describes the essence of the play: four Aussie tourists in Italy. Only one of them has done her homework to know how to order coffee.
This is a very light comedy,
A couple of recently-retired and downsized librarians are planning the holiday of a lifetime in Italy. Suddenly, their old travelling companion friends have to cancel. Their nouveau-riche, apartment-block neighbours offer to step in so the dream trip can go ahead.
While they have played a couple of hands of bridge together, the social and political differences of the four have not been explored. The new neighbour is a successful retired plumber with a trophy wife. The librarians are on humble budgets.
Cue for lots of comic and ironic banter as the contrasts unravel and the characters emerge on the great “adventure-before-dementia” European holiday.
With Don Oswald, director Kerrin White has devised a cunning set which convincingly places the action in Venice, Rome, and Tuscany. This set plays its own comic role, so expertly versatile it is.
Sam Wiseman and Rose Harvey embody the entire working population of Italy quite charmingly: wait staff, tour guides, receptionists, and operatic gondolier.
Furthermore, the cast of principals is up to the demands of their assorted roles, albeit with a bit of liberty with the script at times.
Sue Wylie is bravest of the foursome since she plays the character the audience has to loathe, the annoying super-organiser, know-it-all travel drear full of tedious factual minutiae. Wylie nails her in slow, over-emphasised delivery while, true to script, she is costumed in symphony of drabness.
Her fellow librarian spouse is played by Lindsay Dunn, a reliable actor who specialises in laconic characters. He also is real-time narrator of this travel tale, an artful dramatic device with which the playwright can add peculiarities, insights, and satirical commentary.
Indeed, it is not for nix that Roger Hall has been knighted for this work and has been dubbed here, across the ditch, as New Zealand’s David Williamson.
This is a skilfully-crafted play.
The characters bounce off each other and, as the plot progresses, present pertinent psychological and cultural revelations.
The work's resolution is intelligent and satisfying. The audience has found its own sweet spot for the rich plumber’s trophy wife, impeccably depicted for Therry by Anita Zamberlan Canala. As for her brash, moneyed husband, well, he is played by Frank Cwiertniak, a fine Adelaide actor who is at his peak and, with his character written by Hall, he has more than one dimension to express, but no spoilers here.
This is a play which makes one reflect on human values, ponder social mores, learn about Italy, laugh and guffaw at human follies and foibles and then, just get a bit misty.
Good choice, Therry. Nice work, White and cast.
But please take Saturday matinees back to the traditional 2pm timeslot.
Samela Harris
When: 25 Mar to 1 Apr
Where: Arts Theatre
Bookings: trybooking.com
University of Adelaide Theatre Guild. Little Theatre, University of Adelaide. 24 Mar 2023
Director Bronwyn Palmer’s production excitingly opens with Shakespeare’s ship-sinking storm scene represented with creative stagecraft that puts you at the centre of the action. Making a prow with two lengths of cloth is brilliant. Twelve years earlier, Prospero’s brother Antonio usurped Prospero for his dukedom and guess who’s luckily on the ship? The sorcerer Prospero conjured the tempest and ensured that everyone one on board is marooned on his island so he can right some wrongs with forgiveness and a dynastic plan.
Palmer, the director and set designer, plays with anachronisms in many aspects. The island is represented by a sand spit surrounded by shore waves and fishing nets adorned with the flotsam and jetsam of modernity. A great look that doesn’t have any further role in the narrative. The creative constructions just kept on coming, like Caliban’s cave. Prospero is aided in his mischief by the fairy Ariel and the monstrous Caliban. As well as most of the cast, they look terrific in bespoke costumery (costume design – Palmer and Emily Dalziel). And again like many others in the mainly young cast, Finty McBain and John Charles manifest their theatrical training with fetching expressions and physical movement (movement coach and choreography – Ella McKinnon). Original music and chants by composer Nicholas Cannon adds a lot to the witchcraft. Theatre magic is liberally sprinkled about like confetti by Palmer.
Prospero, of course, is a central role but its potential is not realised. Jack Robins looks like a retired professor beachcombing in Bali just after a meditation lesson including a debris-laden bandolier. More normalcy than wizardry. His enunciation of Shakespeare’s syllables and emotional veracity fell short. The main narrative event is the young love between Prospero’s daughter Miranda and the son of Antonio’s ally, Ferdinand. Ellie Schaefer conveyed all the wonder of first lust and love heightened by having never seen another human being before (besides Dad). Her wide-open enthusiasm is absolutely captivating. Another actor-in-training, Theodoros Papazis is an ideal Ferdinand blessed with gorgeous youth.
The highly experienced Bronwyn Ruciak as Alonso gives an acting lesson to the neophytes. Her constant engagement and expressive understanding are eye candy. Emily Dalziel and Annie Matsouliadis, as the clowning relief, are fabulous as a twosome and in threesome with Charles’s Caliban, their physical work was hilarious and ridiculous. Bogan accents, speech patterns and costume decorated their Shakespeare in a completely unique way. They deserve all the time on stage that they got for their sub-plotting. Antonio and Sebastian played by Susan Cilento and Harry Ollerenshaw were matched in their menace and as sharp as their bodkins.
The relationships of the numerous relevant characters are even more difficult to fathom by gender- and age-blind casting. Due to various appellations, was Alonso actually Ferdinand’s mother or father? Male roles are all of feminised, satirised with man-splaining, or simply played by women in men’s clothing. That adds interest but more discombobulating is that Antonio and Sebastian are the same generation as Prospero, Gonzalo and Alonso, but the actors are next gen. The costumes kept coming but the lighting did not; near the end there was more light on the audience than the stage (lighting design – Stephen Dean).
The whole here is not greater than the parts due to a few laggard elements but at its best, this The Tempest is tempting to attend for what works well.
David Grybowski
When: 26 Mar to 1 Apr
Where: Little Theatre
Bookings: adelaide.edu.au
★★★★★
Changing Jennifers. 18 March 2023
This is one continuous laugh-out-loud fun fest! These four amigos: Sam Calleja, Eden Trebilco, Sam Hobbs-Griffin and Will Mellor were fast and furious on my night of spontaneously improvising the movie, Speed. Your night would be a different Oscar-winning movie but with the same expertise.
The self-proclaimed “improvisational titans” have huge experience at the Edinburgh Fringe and Melbourne Comedy Festival. On stage, they know each other so well I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d wear each other’s underpants without complaining if they had to. Secret signaling is the secret in great improv. Not only are they quick on their feet, the physical comedy, voiced sound effects and terrific tropes make everything clear. You can only wonder and laugh at such alacrity all done with tongue-in-cheek cheerfulness. Bravo!
David Grybowski
When: 18 Feb to 19 Mar
Where: The Bally @ Gluttony
Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au
★★★★
Adelaide Fringe. The Warehouse Theatre. 18 Mar 2023
Run, written by accomplished British writer Stephen Laughton, is another in the growing canon of gay coming of age stories. (This Fringe Festival featured at least one other: A Southern Fairytale). It is about Yonni, a gay Jewish teenager, who can’t get as excited about his religion as his pious. Yonni is much more preoccupied in exploring his emerging sexuality and fantasising about his first boyfriend Adam.
The story begins with Yonni’s last day at school, and its ‘muck up’ day. References to the pranks that students play serve to locate Yonni as a fun-loving ordinary sort of lad. Almost, but he’s not. He’s gay, and coming from a devout Jewish family that would rather have him celebrate shabbat than go out with his mates on a Friday night, likely means his ‘coming out’ is not going to be straightforward. But this is not a typical coming out story (what’s typical anyway?): there are no confrontations with disappointed parents, no crises of faith, no ostracism. Rather it is about the fundamental significance of family, falling in love (and in lust), being tested but remaining faithful, glamorizing both real and imagined realities, grieving, and coping with tragic loss.
The text often explores these themes simultaneously, which is both its strength and weakness. As an audience member you are confronted with a rush of detail and thought bubbles – just as if you are in the mind of a hormone drenched teenager – and this allows you to feel Yonni’s excitement and confusion. But the transitions from one thread to another are sometimes insufficiently distinct, and this is not helped by the modest lighting rig in the Warehouse Theatre; indeed, the most effective and empathetic lighting state occurred when the actor used only the light from his mobile phone and the rig itself was fully dimmed.
Laughton’s text borders on poetry. At times the beautifully constructed language fits both the action and Yonni’s state of mind, especially in the almost schmaltzy scenes where Yonni is gushing about his boyfriend. But in other scenes, such as when Yonni is describing an antisemitic/ gay bashing, the flowery language doesn’t sit well with the visceral nature of what is being described. But, having said that, it is not always entirely clear what is real and what is being imagined, and, arguably, the language helps achieve that dramatic ambiguity.
Run is a play for a solo actor. The text is intricate, the themes are profound, the set is austere, the underscore soundtrack is often ethereal and ominous. It all adds up to a show where its success is largely dependent on the skills of the solo actor, and young actor Ben Stuart makes a good fist of it. It is a huge role, and it is emotionally demanding, and Stuart is at his best when he is playing Yonni ‘in love’. His performance is alive, electric and sweet. In the more dramatic moments, when life and limb is at stake, he gives Yonni more confidence and bravado than fear and desperation, but the dense text gets in the way of him giving creating more nuanced moments. Stuart’s overall performance, however, is impressive.
At the conclusion of the play, the stage is dramatically plunged abruptly into darkness. Is it over? Has Yonni snapped back into reality? What is real, and what is imagined? What is real are the tears in Ben Stuart’s eyes as he gently extricates himself from Yonni’s persona, and announces to the appreciative audience that this performance marks the end of his two year association with Run. What an epic journey.
Kym Clayton
When: Closed
Where: The Warehouse Theatre
Bookings: Closed
Adelaide Festival. FC Bergman / Toneelhuis. Dunstan Playhouse. 16 Mar 2023
Branded as a contemporary fable based on old Flemish tales, The Sheep Song is, firstly, visually stunning. It is dance theatre, more dance and movement based than theatre; there is no dialogue and the expressive form of the actors (performers) is therefore entirely reliant upon a mood and visual cues.
A naked man in a red cowl rings a cast bronze bell, thrice, a curtain is raised. A herd of sheep are grazing onstage, occasionally raising their heads to observe the audience, who are transfixed by fifteen live sheep on stage. One of those sheep is not like the others, it appears curious, lifting itself above the others to regard the humans, to experiment with standing, and walking, and to boldly go where no sheep has gone before.
The Sheep Song thus reveals itself as a parable of sorts, a comment upon the futility of the human condition. To the sheep it appears the human form is alluring, to us in the audience is revealed the notion of a sheeplike existence. Through a series of vignettes the sheep tries to be accepted into human society; the initial walking routine is beautifully powerful due to its simplicity. When the humans and the sheep synchronise their steps the audience have an unmistakable representation. A ‘road to Damascus’ scene has the sheep attacked by three men and left lying in the road, and there is a pantomime doll who masturbates and ejaculates blood. This latter, apparently, represents a Faustian pact made by the sheep to become ‘human’ but seems to represent more nearly the male fascination with their penis.
This is a performance which draws darkness around itself as a protective cape. There is no joy in the notion of an animal ‘raising’ itself (in the manner of the pigs in Animal Farm); one might almost describe it as bleak. The stage is most often shrouded in haze, which billows in the perpetual half-light. Gradually, the sheep (Jonas Vermeulen) assumes those aspects which make them more and more human. The woman and a live dog make an appearance. The Sheep is attracted to her, begins wearing a coat, and loses the obvious hoofs. We may leave aside the obvious implausibility of a sheep (the female of the species) breeding with a blind woman and accept this may be history’s second recorded Immaculate Conception, and they have a child, who does not survive long.
Several times through the performance the sheep is presented with a banjo, and it becomes apparent that the inability to play it is a measure of just how ‘human’ the sheep is becoming. When the disfigured sheep is finally in a position to play the instrument, the tune shows that despite best endeavours, assimilation is impossible. The ability to play a baa chord, it must be assumed, is too great a requirement. In the final scene the sheep returns to the fold (and the flock return to the stage). Beautifully managed, the sheep are at first skittish around their former companion. Truly, the sheep does not easily fit into either world.
This is a performance rich in symbolism, and rich in imagery, but it is the music score of Frederik Leroux-Roels which brings the performance together. The simple banjo based intonation, augmented by looped recordings and reverb pedals and some simple programmable samples for the industrial and syncopated rhythms occasionally used make this a piece to savour. It is so simple, and so simply realised with the musician onstage through the majority of the performance. Powerful, evocative, and at time confronting, The Sheep Song is like no other performance piece.
Alex Wheaton
When: 16 to 19 Mar
Where: Dunstan Playhouse
Bookings: adelaidefestival.com.au