STC’S ‘ROSENCRANTZ & GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD’ dissected by me

Stoppard. Beautifully wordy, clever, manipulator of language, artful existentialist. Stoppard. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. All of the above.

I saw the first preview at STC’s Sydney Theatre on Tuesday night and I was very glad I did. Normally first previews, that first desperate taste of an audience, are rocky affairs. But if Tuesday’s show, with few very minor, almost unnoticeable hiccups, is a sign of things to come, STC has a genuine hit on its hands with Simon Phillips' direction of Stoppard’s play.

Any director will tell you that if you’re working with good material, 70% of your success on stage will come down to casting and STC has got this one in the bag. Phillips' must be doing a happy dance at not only his leads but also with the strong supporting ensemble.

As part of Sydney’s 2013 Festival of Schmitz, Toby Schmitz gets to dabble in both perspectives of this story, as the lead in Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’, produced by Belvoir later this year, and as Guildenstern in this play. I can’t help think it’s like sweeping the pool at the Oscars. Yet whilst some may bemoan the glut of Schmitz, you can’t deny how good he is in this role. Whilst Tim Minchin is also lovely to watch and the interplay between them emanates a joy and energy, Schmitz is completely convincing as Guildenstern, having poured himself into this role. Minchen just plays himself, very well.

But the real surprise for me was Ewen Leslie as The Player. Leslie’s broad acting range was fully realised in this production and I relished every moment he was on stage delivering his witty, downtrodden, hopeful, heroic yet dastardly gamut of emotions and skills. He made The Player sympathetic and sexy. Oh dear…I’ve got a Ewen Leslie crush and I’m not afraid to admit it.

The tight ensemble of players and court characters were the right blend of spectacle and Shakespeare. Phillips really has done a great job at finding a thousand little moments and turning them into a domino drop of deliciousness. The only question that was left hanging for me was that of the direction of Gertrude, as a brainless Elizabethan bird but I accept that the play lends itself to it completely and the issue is more mine in reconciling the treatment of female characters on stage.

Gabriela Tylesova’s design was one of the first times I have felt that the stage of the Sydney Theatre has been effectively utilised by a local production. The (incredibly expensive) hydraulic stage, the mechanical (almost Eisenstein-inspired) archways indicate all the paths and possibilities, entrances and exits that all lead back to the paralysing knowledge of life’s own existentialist dilemma, the mechanisations of life itself. Tylesova’s costumes probably cost more than the stage itself. There was enough leather on stage to start an S&M club and there’s some fancy finery there too. But it all suits perfectly and I can’t imagine a more appropriate expression of the characters and the weathering of their journey.

Sound designer Steve Francis has finally solved the acoustic hole of the Sydney Theatre by subtly amplifying the actors to hit those back walls and if you didn’t see the occasional strapped cord on the actor, you would never have known. Nick Schlieper’s lighting design also adds to the feeling of this world, ebbing away as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern struggle to find their ways out of the shadows or at times, try to hide in them.

This is a show I’d be happy to see again and I strongly suggest you avail yourself of seeing it.

Give in to the Schmitz Blitz.

GRIFFIN’S ‘BEACHED’ dissected by me

Griffin Theatre’s latest local premier is of Melissa Bubnic’s play, ‘Beached’, directed by Shannon Murphy. ‘Beached’ explores a grossly overweight teenage boy, Arty (Blake Davis), his feeder mum JoJo (Gia Carides), his Pathway’s mentor Louise (Kate Mulvany) and the reality unmasking of Arty's world as captured in the show ‘Shocking Fat Stories’ by the producer (Arka Das). The show counts down the days until Arty’s gastric bypass surgery and unravels Arty's relationships, identity, hopes and fears and those of the other characters in this story.

I found this play very engaging and appreciated the attempt to use a medium now so prominent in the entertainment industry- complete with its manipulation of ‘reality’ itself through a quick edit, a staged scene and capturing or manufacturing the truly private moments we encounter. Bubnic’s play is a great vehicle to explore this taboo topic and polarising for society at large (excuse the pun).

The production still fell some way from being perfect but I did enjoy it and most of its audience seemed to as well. However, I found myself wishing the production played less with the superficiality of the characters as I think the writing offered more dimensions than the production suggested. Of course, I know it’s ‘reality’ television so I understand the point that’s being made- but in those moments when the camera is ‘off’, the real reality of the illusion of theatre can exist! I think if Murphy had pushed the ‘truth’ or belief of each of the character’s predicament, it would have punched way above its weight (excuse the pun).

Gia Carides was a strong casting choice in this play and I think she tried to find the light and shade of JoJo’s intentions but the directorial choice in heightening the absurdity of situation, especially  in regards to the public demonization of the obese, meant that Carides couldn’t push too far without looking out of place. Bubnic evocatively writes about this in her notes and it feels like Murphy didn’t quite get there in this production.

But Murphy did make some fine comic choices as Kate Mulvany captured in her physical and vocal expressiveness of Louise throughout the show. ‘Beached’ does have some wonderfully funny moments and the play certainly allows for that. Unfortunately Davis, who has a genuine niceness exude from his every pore, was never really believable as understanding what it must be like to be morbidly obese. It’s a hard ask to imagine being trapped inside your own body and to have no control over the response of people’s public disgust towards it. So I understand what an obstacle this presents for a director in plunging for depth and conviction so it is easier to play for laughs and allow us to empathise based on the sweetness of Davis’ interpretation of Arty.

Clever design of the stage by James Browne made for hidden places to be captured by manipulating the use of camera and meant that every part of the stage (and off stage) were potential spaces of action. I thought the use of the fat suit rolling bean bag was incredibly inventive and although distracted by the moving of the scaffolding at times, it meant that even a slight shift opened up a new angle and way of seeing things. There was also the dilemma of whether to watch the actor through the lens or on stage. What an interesting choice to be given. Consequently it seemed as if we prefer the comfort of the close up instead of relying on the bigger picture unfolding in front of us.

‘Beached’ is worth watching and the younger demographic will especially enjoy the medium and satire of the reality genre and its familiar form used in this clever way. And the play did inspire me to roll along to the gym the next day so there’s something to be said for that (excuse the pun).

IMPULSE THEATRE’S ‘ROMEO & JULIET’ dissected by me

Grotowski-oriented group, Impulse Theatre, had their debut of Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo & Juliet’ at the King St Theatre this week. It’s a mixed bag and continues a trend of community-based theatre at this venue that doesn’t quite succeed in producing fully developed work. Yet, there are some solid moments in this show that carry it to the end.

Director/Producer Stephen Wallace has chosen the 2005 Cronulla race riots as the backdrop or pretext to Shakespeare’s well-known play. Although this idea sets the scene for the two famous families and establishes time and place, it’s probably under-utilised in the overall vision of the play. It did allow for a few opportunities to play with cultural differences, such as the dancing in the party scene but it rarely pushed far enough in showing differences in characterisation or action. Perhaps there’s a fear of stereotyping. Whilst the ‘Lebanese’ Capulets were more obvious and developed, the Aussie Montagues didn’t have the same complexity and seemed to be only Aussie in costume. More exploration of choices here could have been interesting.

In regards to the performances, the stand out performer by a mile was Alan Faulkner, who took small roles such as the Prince or Peter and delivered the biggest performances of the evening. His mastery of the language was also evident and impressive.

Apart from Faulkner, it was the women of the cast who made a fist of keeping the show alive. Special mention goes to Rainee Lyleson’s Juliet. Dan Webber’s Romeo was hot and cold in characterisation but when he had the strength of Lyleson to bounce off, he was better for it. At least the chemistry and connection between them was believable.

The language was a hurdle too hard to ‘o’erleap’ for most and there was also some very dodgy and unfortunately amusing fight choreography executed on stage. Belief was mixed and there were a number of eye-rolling moments. Thankfully any sighing was muffled by the noise made by the obsessive crisps eater in the second row. And then sometimes they had moments that lifted the play in intensity and engagement and made the questionable performances or choices more forgivable.  

Allan Walpole’s set allowed for a variety of ways to use the stage, although sometimes, as evidenced by the use of the balcony, the set was used far too literally and a little more experimentation wouldn’t have gone astray.

But in all of that, the cast were committed and there’s lots of energy and love for the play within it. It doesn’t always transfer out but no doubt its audience will find a few moments of redemption in the viewing of the play and its passionate delivery. 

LAMBERT HOUSE & EMU PRODUCTION'S 'RELATIVE MERITS' dissected by me

On the front of the program is a quote from Theatre Australasia about this show. It calls the play "Surprisingly sensitive, realistic and humorous". I can't think of three words less likely to describe 'Relative Merits', showing at King St Theatre.

Written twenty years ago and reprised for an anniversary outing, Barry Lowe's 'Relative Merits', directed by Les Solomon, falls straight into the trap of overplaying every moment. It tries so hard that the play is engulfed by a melodramatic desperation to make sure the point of homophobia and HIV is hammered home.

I think Lowe's material already lends itself to ham acting 101. The script does have a way of telling you something that happened or about a relationship past and then has to act out that scene or deliver a monologue that goes over all of it again. What it needs is a good edit. Instead it draws out the confusion, the disappointment, the loss, the anger by overstating it in every scene.

Maybe the script wouldn't seem so bad had the directorial choices been more subtle. The choice to make younger brother Clay (James Wright) break in through the actual window of the foyer making more noise than a cat on heat, start to pick up everything on stage and give us his attitude towards each item, answer the phone with obvious antagonism and then make himself at home with a whole lot of face acting to boot meant that from the start, this is sledgehammer drama. Don't bother signposting. Take the sign and choke me with it.

Jeff Teale, as older brother Adam, had a little more to offer on stage but in some ways, his role at least called for more subtlety so he was probably let off Solomon's hook whereas Wright was cast into the ocean.

Nick Ferranti's design, complete with posters from 1985 of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome and Back to the Future (OK- only four years off when the play was set but still smacked of trying too hard) was another example of offering no credit to your audience that we are smart enough to deal with the issue instead of 'painting the whole set in the shade of obvious'. But the set was at least functional and built out in the foyer. I will give the play credit that it used every corner of the area, although it did mean that watching the action or pre-recorded segments was difficult at times.

I'm not arguing that the content matter is irrelevant. I am saying that the art of presenting it was juvenile. I'm sure a number of people will appreciate that the minority voice is represented but perhaps invest in going to see Angels in America, showing right now at the Theatre Royal, and watch a sophisticated way of presenting the same idea at almost exactly the same time period.

'Relative Merits' has very little merit indeed. 

OLD 505’s ‘THE TWELFTH DAWN’ dissected by me

This play had me intrigued from the start, when they rolled one of the cast members onto the stage on a lounge from the foyer. 

‘Now that’s an entrance’ I thought to myself. 

A little bit of stage business ensued, a bit of splashing in the bath and then a couple of monologues and suddenly, I wasn’t so sure that this was anything more than a trick or two contrived into a loose narrative. ‘Indulgent’ I mused. And then came the crack about Robin Williams’ bad films and I knew that although it was going to take me into the dark crevice of grief, it was keeping it real.

Kerri Glasscock, Michael Pigott and Gareth Boylan are the performers and devisers of ‘The Twelfth Dawn’, a physical movement piece that explores the loss of a baby and in that process, time. There were moments I really enjoyed this piece. The connection between our couple (Glasscock and Pigott) was strong and the choreography as they negotiate around these endless days of disconnection from reality was beautifully crafted. Add to this moments firmly grounded in reality and playing with the non-linear time frame of events and its repetition, ‘Twelfth Dawn’ is an infinitely watchable, risk-taking yet controlled piece of intelligent theatre.

I think there are still some things to work on with this piece. Boylan’s characters still feel like they are trying to find how to utilise the third member of the group within the performance and haven’t quite succeeded in placing him in the action. This was especially true as he entered in wig and dress- comic but not necessary. I did enjoy how they used the audience space in their performance and in fact, for a small and intimate stage, they managed to create a world in every corner.

Music was used effectively and the timing throughout was well-crafted and sustained, like a clock ticking away, relentless and unavoidable. It’s a small play that delivers more than you expect.

I know there are only a few more days to catch this one hour show but if you can, pop along to Old 505 and immerse yourself in a fairly strong piece of original theatre. 

NEW THEATRE’S ‘TOP GIRLS’ dissected by me

Caryl Churchill’s ‘Top Girls’ is a strange read. Act One’s dinner party of female historical figures can feel contrived as it transitions, non-linear, into the life of our contemporary protagonist, Marlene. This weird bridge between our understanding of the modern woman who emerged in the late 1970’s/early 80’s and these early generations of feminist icons can read like it’s forcing the message- it’s a man’s world- just a little too hard.

So cue New Theatre and director Alice Livingstone’s production of ‘Top Girls’ and suddenly, it doesn’t feel alien at all. I get it. It’s clever. What a strong production this is of Churchill’s play. Women cannot have their cake and eat it too. Ain’t that the truth.

Look, maybe I’m simplifying things but I took my non-theatre going friend to this and she even called me the next day to express how much she enjoyed it, as did I, and I’m still getting over jetlag so this play could have really hurt at almost three hours long.

There are a number of things that make this play work on the stage.

Firstly, Livingstone has taken three semi-disparate sections; fantasy, office and family, and found a way to connect them seamlessly. I love the way they dabble in the absurdity but are delivered with such clarity and belief, until we’re completely immersed in the realism of the play at the end.

I loved the interplay of characters, jumping over each other’s lines, crafting every moment back to their own story or letting the tension rise as we hear the dramatic outcomes of each woman at the dinner party. There is sacrifice merged with self-centredness, the struggle of the female collective, how love is a test but women seem to be the only ones sitting the exam, how love can lead to disaster or you have to put up walls to never let it in. Livingstone is in control of this production and perhaps the use of Fiona Hallenan-Barker as dramaturg has been an excellent choice in helping craft this interpretation.

The second and probably the most significant reason for the production’s success is the cast. What a treat to be given the opportunity to watch an entire female cast who are also seven terrific performers. Julia Billington’s Marlene, standing out in red against this ‘natural world order’ was terrific. She made every intention and relationship feel believable. Bishanyia Vincent’s Lady Nijo captured the humour of this character and took a potentially indulgent comic role and made it natural, endearing  and real. Sarah Aubrey’s range of roles and vocal skills were a delight and Maeve MacGregor, Ainslie McGlynn, Claudia Barrie and Cheryl Ward each delivered great portrayals. Apart from some difficulty in understanding Barrie’s ‘Dull Gret’ monologue, which she more than made up for as Angie, this was a very strong ensemble.

Gina Rose Drew’s designs, particular in costume, served to show us this medieval natural order in the vines, greens and imposing stone walls that women are victims of, even now.  By then allowing Marlene to opt out of this world through her contrasting costume design and colour scheme, we see her fight to break tradition and all the obstacles in its path, some of her own making. We see the distance between the women in the space grow- a lovely use of stage proxemics in delivering this idea.

Sara Swersky’s lighting also plays with the mood of the play’s early scenes, intimate and shrouded in the shadows of the women who came before us contrasted to the ending’s stark, bright, unforgiving state of what perhaps we are doing to the next generation.

This is by far the strongest play I’ve seen at the New Theatre this year. Whether you’re looking to see a feminist piece or not, this is worth a viewing because above all, it’s a narrative that will engage you.

ENSEMBLE’S ‘THE GLASS MENAGERIE’ dissected by me

Back from the wilds of Siberia, this week saw my return to the theatre to catch the premier of director Mark Kilmurry’s ‘The Glass Menagerie’. Tennessee Williams’ plays take me into the heart of the south and he places his characters in a present that pines for the past and despairs for its future. There’s something dreamlike that dances about his style, the expressionistic scaffolded set, the half lit stage, the abrupt ending to scenes, things half-formed that fade away to leave fragments of memory.

‘The Glass Menagerie’ is the first of his plays and in some ways, the most gentle and sad. We are told from the play’s narrator from the onset, “..I turn back time…it is sentimental, it is not realistic.” Yet amonsgt that, we are offered glimmers of hope that must fail, relationships that can reside only  in the glory of a deceptive past. This is the story of a family that begins and ends in this spot, at this time, under these conditions. A future can only be attained if you run away from the present and all you get there is a shadow of your past.  

Kilmurry found and played with the humour in the play I had previously overlooked, although I think the frustration and desperation of our characters got lost amongst some of those choices. This play felt safe and I guess after the success of ‘Frankenstein’ with Kilmurry’s risk-taking and evocative direction, ‘The Glass Menagerie’ is one to keep its subscriber base happy in its path-of-least-resistance interpretation.

The first half of the play felt a little undercooked, like a slow-cooker waiting to develop flavour. The play has an ethereal voice but sometimes the voice doesn’t seem to transfer out to its audience. It felt like it was on the wrong speed and acutely aware of itself. Partly this is the rhythm of the play slightly out of whack, which could be opening night nerves and will surely be remedied as the season continues. Mostly it’s because the intentions lack a convincing energy in the first half and therefore the stakes aren’t quite high enough for its audience to connect with either. For instance, I’m not convinced that Tom is completely frustrated by the trap he finds himself in or that Amanda is outraged by Laura’s truancy from typing classes. Both Tom Stokes (Tom) and Vanessa Downing (Amanda) took a while to warm into the play but by the second half, the simmering development of the play found its notes and was much more engaging. Partly this can be attributed to the strong acting of Catherine McGraffin (Laura) and Eric Beecroft (Jim). McGraffin managed to find the fragile vulnerability of Laura without overplaying it- a very hard ask. Beecroft also gave Jim the confidence of ambition and not the smarminess that can sometimes occur in Jim’s portrayal. Both were nicely understated. Stokes and Downing did find their moments in the play- Downing’s turn as Amanda’s southern belle at the dinner was hilariously grotesque and simultaneously sad and the ending, with Stokes giving Tom’s eulogy of regret was quite moving.

The set, designed by Lucilla Smith, and Nicholas Higgins’ lights had some nice elements to it-  the lit frame of the invisible father, the bricked up windows or walled-up memories and the use of the thin curtain scrim. To create the world of the play on this tiny stage was quite a feat and generally it worked well. The odd exit off-stage before coming back to the stairway was probably the most obvious example of trying too hard to differentiate space in Kilmurry's use of the design. It served little function and if anything, disjointed the action in the middle of scenes.

But overall, the play is a faithful rendition of Williams’ ‘The Glass Menagerie’. It’s the milk arrowroot amongst all the biscuits trying so hard to be stand out. ‘The Glass Menagerie’ was satisfyingly plain. There were times I wished for more flavour, that the play sat too comfortably in understating the dilemma of its situation, but I still feel like I got what I needed from Kilmurry’s interpretation and I think an audience will too.