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
Adelaide Repertory Theatre. Arts Theatre. 24 Nov 2021
Twenty years ago, director Kerrin White witnessed the original National Theatre production of Humble Boy (starring Diana Rigg no less) and never forgot its warp and weft. British playwright Charlotte Jones was one of those underemployed and frustrated actors who turn their hand to writing as a way forward, and she collected the British Critic’s Circle Best New Play award for Humble Boy early in her new career. Yet either White didn’t convey all the play has to offer or the play is the thing.
There is no doubt the writing keeps one guessing. Thirties-something Felix Humble returns to his parent’s lovely garden and home in the Cotswolds for his father’s funeral. Astrophysicist Felix is a familiar blend of apparent scientific genius and social inadequacy who is residing somewhere on a spectrum of disorder. As presented by Nick Endenburg, Felix is a strange brew of exaggerated gesticulations that border on bizarre, and if these are supposed to add up to an actual condition engendering empathy, that wasn’t achieved. While holding the eponymous role, it turns out it’s not Felix’s story. The honour of protagonist goes to Felix’s mother, Flora, played rock-solidly by Celine O’Leary. O’Leary has loads of professional credentials and it shows amply in her voice and carriage.
The action takes place in the cottage garden and while each element of the set is pretty, it remains a collection instead of a unified whole (Kerrin White: set design). A large structure centre stage resembling a dalek from Dr Who is supposed to be a beehive. Richard Parkhill (lighting design) had trouble distinguishing day from night, and these fragmented elements manifest the slings and arrows that Charlotte Jones throws about in the script. There is more lateral linking and symbolism than in Egyptian hieroglyphics but it’s often blatantly tricked up and too clever for its own sake. Even Flora says, “Please, not clichés at our age.” Dad was an apiarist and entomologist and son Felix is an astrophysicist, so we get Humble Boy sounds like bumble bee associated with Hubble telescope.
Flora’s affair with neighbour George Pye and Felix’s loathing of him is very Hamlet. Christopher Leech tries hard to fit his talent into the unpleasant Pye. Phoebe Wilson plays Ophelia (actually George’s daughter) and both character and actor resuscitate and nourish the production. Two additional characters are nicely written - both Rhonda Grill and Brian Knott have excellent showcase scenes in their roles as foils for the fractured family.
Act II opens with a luncheon meant to bring peace and understanding. If you fear your Christmas lunch will resemble this one, you may get nightmares after the show. Although poorly presented with a tablecloth dominating the proceedings at the edge of the set, it has its moments, although the main mirth is engineered.
The best moment – a redeeming moment - in the play is near the end. It is beautiful and ethereal in its fantasy. We see real change and realisation, and that magic word, gratitude.
Apples and bees and buzzwords and string theory and swing music, family dysfunction and Hamlet and stuttering, and Latin names for flowers and who’s child is that anyways? Lots of ideas to wade through.
David Grybowski
When: 18 to 27 Nov
Where: Arts Theatre
Bookings: trybooking.com
Far and Away Productions. Hart’s Mill Port Adelaide. 18 Nov 2021
Snakes are the least and the most danger in this dystopian and slightly absurdist theatre work from Writer and Director Catherine Fitzgerald. Dry references the zeitgeist of climate change and the plight of refugees, while at the same time acknowledging the vagaries of a country such as ours; towns built in inhospitable locales, First Nations people moved on and the relationship with land. The snakes seem to move as metaphor amongst all of it.
It’s a big ask to do justice to all these issues, but Fitzgerald makes a good fist of it, utilising dark humour and effective character monologues. Two sisters, fiercely locked into their generational land ownership, remain as the last inhabitants of a drought ridden town that has been evacuated. Initially Klaus, husband of younger sister Ellen, stayed with them, but then he up and disappeared on his bicycle. ‘He’ll be back,’ opines younger sister, often. Godot.
Water, or its lack, dictates their existence, as they dole out by the cupful the meagre supplies that are desalinated from the nearby sea. Oddly enough, bar for the inevitable squabble over who is drinking more, and who should walk through the snakes to fetch more brine, water does not become the issue that breaks them; this is down to Patience hoarding and stealing food. Sweet, sweet tins of peaches from the cellar are their undoing.
The inappropriately named Patience is played by Eileen Darley with a light hand, which in the first instance disguises the obnoxious and selfish character that she is, and apparently has always been. Caroline Mignone, who at first appears the long-suffering younger sister, has her own survival issues to work through, not least of which includes payback to her elder sister, for food, for cruelty and ultimately, for Klaus.
The appearance of the refugee (Stephen Tongun) complicates the fracture that has appeared in the sisters’ relationship, and brings to the fore the casual racism with which they were raised, and the political naiveté that can affect the emotionally isolated. Fears of ‘the Capital’ are paramount, and supposition of what happened to the townspeople when they were taken by train become fact.
As the sisters sit at table, reflecting on their lot, they continue to observe the colonial niceties of lace tablecloths and tea sets, charmingly effected through Gaelle Mellis’ simple set design (realised by Katharine Sproul); as they observe more than once, tea should always be served in china cups. Behind them, forming the vista of the region, is Lighting Designer Nic Mollison’s projected backdrop; absolutely stunning photography from Alex Frayne is reflected large, washed in Mollison’s ochres and yellows, utilising what is a very deep stage space most effectively. Composer Catherine Oates seems to meander through these remarkable scenes, never taking too much focus but beautifully underpinning the work on stage.
There’s a contemporary art reflecting life narrative here that takes a while to come through; when it does, the stunning design stands in contradistinction to some of the ugly truths being exposed. Dry is at times uncomfortable, at times a bit clichéd, but it works hard to reflect a reality that is all too recognisable. Darley, Mignone and Tongun work very well together, inhabiting their characters with tenacity.
The ending is ultimately unsatisfying and leaves a sense of disappointment rather than of tragedy. As the three use a railway handcart to traverse what is revealed as increasingly desolate landscape, it becomes clear there is to be no salvation. Nonetheless Dry is an effective and timely piece of theatre from one of the best production crews the state has to offer.
Arna Eyers-White
When: 17 to 20 Nov
Where: Hart’s Mill, Port Adelaide
Bookings: trybooking.com
Theatre Republic in association with Adelaide Festival Centre. Space Theatre. 17 Nov 2021
I was listening to RN Breakfast in early 1999. Anthony LaPaglia had just won the Tony best actor award for his Eddy in Arthur Miller’s A View From The Bridge. Fran Kelly asked what it was like to have instant stardom, and he said, “Are you kidding? I’ve been in New York pounding shoe leather since the early ‘80s! And it was bloody tough trying to crack it, I’ll tell’ya!”
How Not To Make It In America is based on Adelaidean playwright Emily Steel’s very own experience trying to crack it. She didn’t crack it (“happier here with you guys,” she says) but she has written a cracker one-person one-hour play on the trials and tribulations of Big Apple survival in the toughest show business in the world, and tells her tale through her character, the hapless Matt. James Smith’s Matt is a marvel of theatrical engineering and engagement. Steel chops up time and space and Smith surpasses the challenge of turning 28 characters into meaty chunks of New York personae – the casting directors, the guys at the DVD shop, the street food vendors, the crappy drug-hazed housemates who offer him a couch for US$80 a week. Within this narrative complexity that has one guessing what’s next or even what is, director Corey McMahon, Steele and Smith put you on the streets of NY – you can smell hot dogs and B.O. and simultaneously marvel at Smith’s virtuosity with accents and emotion. Bravo! Smith’s Matt is such a sweet guy, so normal yet so driven and desperate, you want to reach out, give him a hug, and then slap him to say, “STOP!” Former international shoestring travelers, low on dough making a phone card call to Oz to say you’re OK when you’re not, may get weak kneed with familiarity.
Meg Wilson’s set is a deliciously disorientating three-dimensional kinetic kaleidoscope of Chris Petridis’s abstracted images of New York. Sometimes Matt is in front of the curve, sometimes he is engulfed by it. You may not realise the subtle emotional manipulation of Jason Sweeney’s compositions and soundscape until they turn it off, a signature of superior enhancement.
This all-Adelaide creative team lead by director Corey McMahon has manifested a highly entertaining and poignant insight into a young person’s dream, and you are right in there with him, trying to make it before it breaks you.
Be numbered amongst the first by seeing this world premiere. No doubt it will be performed in many languages around the world for years to come - while we all have the dream, we don’t all take the risk, and that’s what we love about Matt (and Emily, too!) Bravo!
David Grybowski
When: 17 to 20 Nov
Where: Space Theatre
Bookings: ticketek.com.au