Adaptation by Tall Stories Theatre Company. 8 Dec 2021
Contrary to popular perception, children can be hard audiences. This is never more so than when familiar characters are presented to them in an unfamiliar way.
Over the past 20 years, Julia Donaldson & Axel Scheffler’s The Gruffalo has become a staple in the children’s fiction genre. The story of the mouse who goes for a walk in the woods and escapes various predators by inventing an even scarier one has Best Bedtime Story (because kids are okay with having the billyoh scared out of them) and Best Picture Book amongst its many awards, and quite deservedly so. The 2009 film version, a half hour animated production, was both Academy Award and BAFTA nominated, and delights both young and old. And who wouldn’t love a film/book that picks up a whole new audience every five years or so?
The Gruffalo is now also a stage production, giving youngsters yet another version of the story. And I say another, because stage shows have to work that little bit harder than film to capture the attention of the three years-plus crowd. That The Gruffalo manages it (for the most part) is a testament to an ensemble of hard-working actors and a remarkable creative team.
Onto the simple woodsy set (a couple of gnarled trunks, some rocks, logs and a moveable hollow tree) comes Mouse, played (and sung, and danced) by Sophie Kleinschmidt. It takes the little ones a moment to adjust to this creature until, with the aid of the Narrator (Joshua Whitten) she develops ears and a tail. “Oh, there’s Mouse!” cries Little Miss Three, settling back on the prickled spine of her Gruffalo costume.
Fox, Owl and Snake are the three predators who attempt to lure Mouse into their respective lairs. The three are played by Tomas Kantor who, with the aid of some snappy jackets and headgear, takes on the persona of each of these creatures. None are more delightful to the children than Snake, who turns up as a Latino / Mexican mash-up complete with matador jacket, mariachi sequins and appalling but hilarious Spanglish accent.
It’s touches like this that make the show different enough to attract the children’s attention, along with the bonus of songs, and lots of ‘em. It’s almost Gruffalo the Musical. It does mean the very little ones drift off and get a bit restless, but that’s to be expected in any audience this age. Keeping them involved is always tricky, and this production knows the best way to do so; make them part of the action by giving them their own part to play. Yeah, kids love to roar and frighten people; ask any parent. Here they get to do it in spades.
It’s also notable that the adaptation has recognised that for every child in the audience, there’s a matching adult, who will also be watching this show for an hour. Like many children’s tales these days (think Shrek, Toy Story et al.) there are enough double entendres and bons mots to keep the grownups chuckling along. Many of these are produced by Joshua Whitten as Narrator (and waiter, parrot, chicken, peacock, penguin and finally, Gruffalo) who has wonderful comic timing, at one point breaking the fourth wall to promote his varied skills and CV.
The rhyming narrative that is a feature of both book and film is not abandoned here but is tempered by the songs and physical comedy of the characters, which creates a new and different perspective to the tale. And while we know that Gruffalos love roasted fox, owl ice-cream and scrambled snake, who knew that the Gruffalo actually wanted to study art, and ancient Greece? Sadly, that’s NOT what Gruffalos do.
Arna Eyers-White
Where: Dunstan Playhouse, Adelaide Festival Centre
When: 8 to 12 Dec
Bookings: ticketek.com.au
Adelaide Festival Centre & AJZ Productions. Space Theatre. 1 Dec 2021
They feel unseen and unheard. Among those with disabilities, some are blind and deaf. But are able people also selectively blind and deaf by choosing what they see and listen to? In this moving, revealing and helpful locally produced world premiere, co-creator Kelly Vincent, co-creator/director Alirio Zavarce and the True Ability Ensemble have us meet disabled people wanting only a fair go, just with overcoming a curb or boarding a bus, let alone jobs and creative opportunities, or even simply an acknowledgement of dignity and presence. From 2010 to 2018, Kelly Vincent was a Member of the Legislative Council for the Dignity Party where she led changes for disadvantaged South Australians. Currently, from the comfort of your car during your daily commute, you will have noticed billboards with Alirio Zavarce instructing which rubbish goes in which bin. Behind that humour is a man who has dedicated his theatrical skills to creating new work in which those left behind by our society can tell their stories.
The opening number comprises some wildly kinetic choreography devised by two of the cast members, Jamila Main and Wren Dow. This is my first lesson – I was astonished that disabled persons that I assumed could hardly move danced in unison and syncopation sweetly unabashed. Indeed, I was ashamed that I accepted their initial presentation as a bunch of jittery zombies as plausible when it was a spoof. Beginning to recognise my latent prejudices – and I invite you to also dig deep and reflect on yours – I was ready to listen and learn. And God bless you if you already and always accept everyone as your equal.
Each cast member had their own idea or message for a showcase which was polished to performance quality by Zavarce. Wren Dow talked about “this body I live in” and showed with surprising agility how mobility aids mean freedom and not entanglement. Kym Mackenzie is one of many performers who trained, acted and sometimes toured with the disability-focused theatre company No Strings Attached (look them up). “Slow down” was his message. By now I am deeply moved with the gumption I’m seeing. Dion Allen hosted his TV parody, Wheel of Fortune, humorously but pointedly demonstrating how disabled persons are not listened to. Jamila Main has an unseen disability that occasionally confines her to a wheelchair. She was in the middle of formal acting training when laid low by this condition. What a hoot she gave her acceptance speech for the Academy Award for the Best Performance by an Able Person Playing a Disabled Person (eg Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man and Daniel-Day Lewis in My Left Foot). After filming each day, you can wipe off your disability with disinfectant tissue and walk home.
Jye Parry’s acting debut as an axe-wielding warrior looked impressive but the Darth Vader voice-in-the-helmet thing was difficult to understand. His real job is a designer in film, and his projected moving graphics were the ticket. “Am I a mutant” Ad’m Martin, with his disdain for the occasional vowel, offered his provocative poetry. Ad’m holds back more than he gives making him a man of mystery. Perhaps he was a little pissed off his electric wheelchair stopped operating only hours before the show, I would be.
Philippine-born Lucy Lopez Rivera sang a lovely song that no doubt reminded her of home, because it reminded me of the friendly Philippines and the widespread love of expression I encountered there. Rachel High showed her sassy saucy side and Justine van Eyssen implored some sensibility in her shtick. These live performances were interspersed with Zavarce’s filmed interviews of disabled people answering the question what it is like to be unseen. The responses varied from ironically funny to downright distressing, the casual and thoughtless slights disabled people endure are rife. In a live interview, the articulate Kelly Vincent called it “ableism.”
Using Vincent’s words, the performer-creators were “unapologetically themselves.” Zavarce and Vincent have done a terrific job in bringing this request of the disabled to the largely able audience – we are here, hello, talk with us, we are just like you. Bravo to bravery!
PS Can’t hear? No problem. The show is signed in Auslan (Australian sign language) for the deaf).
David Grybowski
When: 1 & 2 Dec 2021
Where: Space Theatre
Bookings: Closed
Stephen House. Studio Theatre, The Bakehouse Theatre. 1 Dec 2021
Written and performed by Stephen House, The Ajoona Guest House provides a glimpse into the hellish world of the down-and-outers living on the fringes in the little observed recesses and hidden places in the old part of New Delhi. It is almost voyeuristic, and it is gut wrenching.
Few of us can ever imagine who and what inhabits the underworld in major cities. Occasionally we read about it in the media, and as recently as today we learn that the SA Police are investigating what could be numerous drug-related murders in Adelaide that until now have been looked at as suicides or overdoses. Such is the horror of the illicit drug scene, and The Ajoona Guest House gives us an insight into the human toll of that underworld in New Delhi.
The Ajoona Guest House is for a solo actor who performs the roles of multiple characters who are either residents at the Ajoona or who are associated with them. It takes good writing and even better acting for such scripts to be successful. Over recent years there have been numerous examples of such productions – many at The Bakehouse especially during festivals – but few have reached the same excellence as does Stephen House with Ajoona. His script is tight, compelling, always engaging, and character driven. His stage craft is well polished and he paints detailed and mesmerising pictures of each of his characters that stimulate the imaginations of each and every audience member to deeply visualise the implied settings. We can almost smell the dirtiness of Old Delhi, and Alain Valodze’s evocative and rich soundscape aurally transports us to the subcontinent. The simple stage setting – an empty stage with nothing but a box to sit on – works exceptionally well. There are no distractions – everything is in the text that is masterfully brought to life by House’s exquisite stage presence. Lighting by Stephen Dean is simple but effective.
Director Rosalbe Clemente must have had such a rewarding time pulling this show together: an excellent script, a masterful actor, expert and imaginative production elements.
The Ajoona Guest House runs only for a short season, and deserves to be seen by as many as possible.
Kym Clayton
When: 30 Nov to 11 Dec
Where: The Bakehouse Theatre
Bookings: trybookings.com
RUMPUS. Kidaan Zelleke & Poppy Mee with Good Company Theatre. 30 Nov 2021
This is my second show reviewing at RUMPUS in Bowden and this is the place for brand new locally created work. Firstly, it’s pleasant seeing how Bowden is shaping up as a community with mixed-style dwellings and ample amenities. The Rumpus Theatre occupies a converted industrial building, and its nooks and crannies are fascinating. The bar area is expansive, and the various sitting areas will remind you of granny’s with its doilies and household antiques and print copies of kitsch paintings. Nostalgic and comforting. The theatre policy includes care to cater to all persons with whatever accessibility or viewing issues.
Hamlet In The Other Room is the debut production of Good Company Theatre. This new local collective has the balls to shake up Shakespeare’s masterwork. No wait, they don’t have the balls because they are all women! The lords become ladies and same-sex relationships abound.
The simple set is bathed in the royal purple and the king’s throne dominates (it’s actually just a retro chair tricked up with trompe l’oeil but it works). Designer Katherine Cooper has the women in modern dress sporting the most fetching combinations of material, style and colour that enhance and differentiate each woman’s native looks – the sparse set is but a vessel for the kinetic kaleidoscope of movement to follow. It is like an original Star Trek TV episode where Captain Kirk beams down onto the planet of creative women in fancy dress.
Aside from design, the play follows the script more or less but alas a few pages go missing. While diction is clear and the verbal and physical work is pacey, it’s not the best Shakespeare. But here is the best part. Starting in earnest with the play-within-the-play scene, director Zola Allen - with all the cast workshopping lead writers’ Lucy Haas-Hennessy’s and Poppy Mee’s original script - challenges the gender, status and other stereotypes of Shakespeare’s age. A good poke in the eye! This is conveyed through many theatrical devices and surprises, including a joint effort of, “To be or not to be…” and builds to a daring crescendo of confronting dance. Bravo!
I know I said that was the best part, but apparently it’s not! At least that is what I was told by the audience members I interviewed after the show. I found it difficult to follow the instructions given in the foyer, so challenged I was by their theatrical anarchy. I didn’t do what many did – you’re supposed to get out of your seat and go down the corridor and into the dressing room. At any time. During performance of Hamlet. Or even start your show in the dressing room, and later move into the theatre. Or is the whole place, including the corridor in between the theatre? Others told me what a dolt I was because I missed the excitement of being a fly-on-the-wall in the dressing room in the presence of the actors’ gay abandon and bon homie during their time off-stage. Can’t say I wasn’t invited.
This is your opportunity, like Alice’s, to go through the looking glass and enjoy a theatrical experience much as a performer would. While I enjoyed getting familiar with the various personae of the cast in performance, seeing them also the dressing room would put a rocket under that experience.
It is the most creative idea I’ve seen in theatre for a long time, and I didn’t see half of it! Bravo! Go see it, twice.
David Grybowski
When: 1 to 12 December 2021
Where: Rumpus Theatre
Bookings: rumpustheatre.org
Australian Dance Theatre in association with Adelaide Festival Centre. Her Majesty’s Theatre. 25 Nov 2021
G is for Giselle. This classical ballet was an instant success in 1841 after its first run in Paris. G is also for Garry. Garry Stewart is the outgoing artistic director of ADT and this is his swan song. Garry conceived G in 2008 as a reinterpretation of the famous ballet – he stripped it of its unessential sentimentals and brutalised it with the blunt weapon of body-warping physicality. After all, the Wilis* dance two-timing men to exhaustion. Except Giselle’s forgiveness allows her to rest in peace. So there is a lot to transmit – love, death, sex, vengeance, ghosts, grace, syphilis even.
Though there are large type crypto-word puzzles on the upstage wall to help guide you through the narrative, you’re doing well to match Garry’s abstraction to the storyline. But the more you’ve prepared yourself with Giselle, the more you would get out of G. And if you know nuttin’ about nuttin’ – it’s still a visual and aural overload that borders on hallucinogenic.
G is for Green. Not a calming forest green, but a lurid, vibrant green unseen in nature. The dancers wear it, and the floor and wall are nearly always bathed in it. Geoff Cobham’s lighting punctuates the space with the precision of laser. We meet the dancers one by one as if on a conveyor belt moving from stage right to stage left. A sort of G string. Indeed, this motif continues through the whole dance with surprising and highly kinetic and mobile variations each representing a new aspect of first, earthly desire and betrayal, and then, a dance of the damned and their victims. The driving consistence of the conveyor design is matched with Luke Smiles’s composition. The heartbeat base never lets up – and it’s loud from the get-go. It’s solid and entrancing. The dancers transit each conniption in various styles but frenetic would describe the overall effect. It never lets up.
After 22 years at ADT, Garry knows his dancers. Kimball Wong was a dancer in the 2008 production and his acrobatics still stand out. Jill Ogai’s ballet background is another green light. The dozen dancers with diverse training histories are melded into a disciplined whole that generates marvel and awe.
G stands for Great! And Good-bye, Garry, thanks.
*The Wilis are ghosts of maidens betrayed by their lovers. The Queen of the Wilis commands these spirits to dance with the betrayers until they die of exhaustion. Every feminist’s dream!
PS Don’t waste your money on a program. The font is too small for older people and cannot be read under the dim lighting of the stalls. An additional challenge is that a lot of text comprises black lettering on a green background, which is difficult to read anywhere. Big format pages with lots of emptiness. The names of the dancers should be online anyways – everyone else’s is. Honestly…
David Grybowski
When: 25 to 29 Nov 2021
Where: Her Majesty’s Theatre
Bookings: ticketek.com.au