Category: ff2006

Jeremy Elwood – Rock Plus Roll

Jeremy Elwood @ The Chandelier Room (Freemasons)

11:15pm, Tues 28 Feb 2006

Score: 7

Most of the time, if you see a stand-up comedian with 5 people in the crowd, in an odd, wide room, they’re going to struggle.

Not Jeremy Elwood.

Whilst he doesn’t cover any new comedy ground – politics, religion, men/women, sex, drugs – what he does bring to the table is an unflinching belief in himself, and with it is the ability to carry a show with an audience so tiny.

Sure, another 2 people rolled up a little later on, but 7 people in the Chandelier Room is not an audience that you’d expect big feedback from. But he got one from us, because he is good. He’s a great comic, his musical soujourns are well played and bloody funny, and he did it all with a tiny audience.

Let’s put it this way – if he ever comes back (and with audiences like that, who could blame him if he writes Adelaide off as a big joke), I’ll be there. Yes, he’s that good.

And it would be remiss of me not to include his catch-cry for the night… “touch the arse”.

Not that I’m a poof.

The Burlesque Hour

Finucane & Smith @ The Famous Spiegeltent

8:30pm, Tues 28 Feb 2006

Score: 9

Opening with a bit of cross-dressing that left my neighbour completely befuddled, The Burlesque Hour pumped its way through 90 minutes of mayhem (you get your money’s worth).

First thing to note: it’s wonderful seeing shows like this by yourself; the “single seat?” query netted me a second row seat, even though I had been at least 100 metres deep in the queue. Hurrah!

Second thing to note: there’s nudity. Oh, such glorious bodies. Azaria Universe’s pearl-embraced mime to “Total Eclipse of the Heart” will live in the minds of all present that night.

Third: there’s loud, pumping music. Sometimes. Other times, softer background tunage. Still others, vagina-inspired monologues.

Now, these were all things that I was expecting from this show; clearly, the four elderly people in front of me were expecting things to be a bit more sedate, a bit more twee; after Yumi Umiumare’s Japanese high-energy schoolgirl, thrashing and headbanging about the stage to 180 beats per minute (before proceeding to throw seventeen pairs of knickers into the audience), they up and left. They had front row seats, for Christ’s sake! It’s a burlesque show! Ahem.

Yumi also performed an incredibly intense brooding piece – The Kiss Of The Serpent Warrior – dancing in and around her kimono before revealing her kanji-covered body. Sounds like a simple strip-tease when I write it, but it was intense – her focus was absolute, every movement meaningful.

There was a nice interlude where a bored looking Ursula Martinez sat onstage with that touch-flash-powder stuff covering her groin and nipples (looking all the while like tassles & a g-string). With a lit cigarette, she ignited the tassles, revealing her nipply pinkness; the audience giggled as they realised that her “g-string” was next. My neighbour leaned over and whispered in my ear:

“That’s one way to get a Brazilian.”

*foom* went the “g-string”, a bright flash and small puff of smoke revealing Ursula’s pubic regions.

“Apparently not,” I observed.

Fantastic.

Azaria Universe also did a moody rope-dance to PJ Harvey’s “To Bring You My Love”; besides her initial cross-dressed strip, burlesque guru Moira Finucane added her Ice Queen monologue and the tragically trembling Victoriana. Throw in The Town Bikes doing a cutesy frilly-knicker flashing jig, and what you have is a show that’s varied, fresh, and a gamut of emotions.

If this is the next populist Fringe trend (and La Clique are certainly one of the hottest tickets at the moment), we’re in for an eye-opening ride.

Maria Bamford

Maria Bamford @ Nova 2

7:00pm, Tues 28 Feb 2006

Score: 4

Let’s cut to the chase – Bamford’s schtick is her little-girl-lost voice, contrasting against her larger-than-life characterisations. That’s it. There’s no insightful wit; no acerbic jibes; no absurd surrealism.

Just observational humour and characterisations.

Most of her act is spent making fun of her mother, and of her temping jobs she’d used to support her chosen career. She has a minor (almost in passing) dig at her President. And that’s about it. That’s the content of her show. There’s a few giggles to be had – but they’re just that, giggles. No guffaws… giggles. Which kind of suit the whole little-girl-lost thing… hunched giggles hiding your face.

Disappointing.

The Last Days Of Mankind

Circus Elysium @ The Bosco Theatre

5:30pm, Tues 28 Feb 2006

Score: 9

My first time in The Bosco – and it was a hot day, creating a very balmy atmosphere inside the old theater. The paper-thin walls allow plenty of sound from the outside to bleed in, too – but these were the only detractions from an otherwise sterling bit of theatre.

An adaptation of Karl Klaus’ play, Justus Neumann makes “The Last Days Of Mankind” his own, moving from character to character effortlessly. Although he appears to be reading the text straight off a hand-written manuscript, his delivery is passionate, powerful, superb; he’s a sterling orator, and is punctuated by snippets and soundscapes from accompanying guitarist Julius Schwing.

It’s a harsh piece, railing on the use of media disseminating propaganda (soundbites and memes) to the German public. The recurring media whore character is a nasty piece of work – the epitome of the Smiling Nazi – and the cold, ruthless irrationality of the military is also portrayed… twisting their own rules to suit their own purposes in hanging the 18-year-old dissenters. The glorification of conflict by the media and warlords is made overt, all subtlety stripped away.

Some of the characters stand out – the passion and desperation of the poet, the aforementioned female media personality, the warlord sitting amidst his impending ruin. The constant references to the military as a “glory suit”. The parting words of God – “I did not will it so” – imply that war is all mankind’s doing, emphasises man’s inhumanity towards man.

Klaus’ original play consisted of five acts, two hundred and nine scenes, five hundred characters, and was over eight hundred pages long; though it was written during World War I (between 1915-1918), it just as readily applies to the Second World War, too. The implications of this are left as an exercise to the reader; needless to say, Neumann’s abridged adaptation is far from a feel-good piece, but is arresting and engaging theatre nonetheless.

(I wrote this blog entry using info I gleaned off the ‘Net… then I figured I’d ask at The Bosco to see if they had any program or such. The tabloid-sized mountain of information I was given was (a) informative, and (2) a more comprehensive collection of factoids than any InterWeb I’d tinkered with that afternoon)

Donny – The Rock Opera

Monkey With A Gun Theatre Guild @ Little Theatre

10:00pm, Mon 27 Feb 2006

Score: 4

It sounds like an idea so stupid that it might possibly work: a rock opera based on the life of the World’s Greatest Batsman, Sir Donald Bradman. And the band (who I was informed by the pissed kid next to me consists of local legends Pornland) were bloody brilliant throughout. Tight and punchy, they delivered the ROCK side of the equation in spades. But what about the OPERA bit?

The first act was, frankly, embarrassing. It supposedly followed the Don’s childhood through to The Invincible’s domination of England, but the amount of grief that the actors had with their microphone headsets meant that most of the lyrics for the first act were rendered inaudible – it also seemed to indicate that they hadn’t even performed a full dress rehearsal. Despite this, the band chugged out the odd cracking song, before the interval (“ladies and gentlemen… that’s drinks” came a Benaud-esque nasal incantation). Pity there were no drinks to be had.

The second act began with a lot more promise – headsets were firmly taped to the actors heads, which at least meant the audience were privy to the gist of the performance. This act dealt with the BodyLine attack, the Don’s premature retirement and return, before returning to the opening scene of the performance – Bradman’s duck dismissal in his final innings. There was a crackingly amusing song or two (“The Art Of Cricket” springs to mind) and a belter of a singalong feel-good finish which left most of the sell-out first-night crowd happy.

Not me, though. Acting was what you’d expect from an opera (ie, wooden), singing was mostly passable – but the problems lay with the script. Technical problems aside, the big problem with “Donny” was that, with only a few exceptions, it took itself too seriously. You’d think that, when considering a rock opera based on the life of a great cricketer and recluse, you might want to stash your tongue firmly in your cheek; not the case here, to the detriment of the piece.

Sometimes, I’ve got to realise that an idea that sounds so stupid it could work is just… stupid.

Absence and Presence

Andrew Dawson @ Queens Theatre

8:30pm, Mon 27 Feb 2006

Score: 3

Ick. This is a tough one to write up. “Absence and Presence” is an intimate creation in which Andrew Dawson works through the death of his father. Due to his solitary life, his body lay undiscovered for 10 days; the trauma from this event inspired Dawson to create this somewhat autobiographical work.

The production – the imagery, the audio, the performance – is magnificent. The opening soundtrack of household noises (clocks, a fridge, a phone) sets the scene perfectly; the visual effect where Dawson pushes a TV to “pan” across an image is sublime. We’re introduced to his father in video, and as a figure in a chair made from a wire mesh. We see the passage of time through Dawson’s hands masquerading as a moth, fluttering around a naked bulb. There’s the occasional moments of levity – his father seeing Andy perform in the theatre for the first time, and their chess game has a certain wonder about it; and the projected shadows of the dancing mesh figure at the end of the performance are mesmerising.

Dawson is clearly an accomplished performer in mime, in movement – the aforementioned moth is wonderfully expressed using only his hands, his physical description of aging as he walks the length of the stage is beautifully done. And this performance, given its deeply personal nature, is clearly a labour of love. It drips with sentimentality… but that’s the problem. It’s wallowing in feelings I’m not privy to, nor am I able to conjure on the basis of the performance. This is typified by the sense of loss Dawson tries to generate with the ring falling through the water – it was wonderfully realised by his actions, and I understand the emotion he was trying to impart – but did we have to watch it for 5 bloody minutes, accompanied by some overly bombastic music?

“Absence and Presence” is a polished production which really didn’t connect with me… at all. Many people will love it – if the ‘Tiser can give “The Travellers” 4-and-a-half stars, this would surely be worth 5 – but not me. Sorry.

Pluck – “The Specialists”

Pluck @ Queens Theatre

7:00pm, Mon 27 Feb 2006

Score: 8

Pluck were the surprise hit of the Fringe in 2004, drawing in huge audiences wherever they performed… and rightly so. They were brash, confident, and funny. And they’re still all of those things – yes, the music is still wonderful; yes, their comedy elements are still wonderfully realised; yes, there’s still an element of drama present; but it seems something has been lost in the years since.

Opening behind a series of plants, their ability is amply demonstrated early; there’s plenty of tomfoolery in the performance, and the “tea break” in the middle of the set was pure cream-pie slapstick (Sian’s Atkin Diet joke aside). Their teasing of the front row was delightful; one lucky woman scored the chance to play violin (for the first time!) in front of 250 people, only to be subsequently stared down by Sian (“she likes you”, quipped Regan). Garrat again “leads” the trio – with the smouldering Sian barking disapproval – and he shares a hilarious three-instrument duet with Regan. Sian’s convertible dress is a hoot, and the Tchaikovsky closer, complete with “fireworks” and “cannons”, is pretty bloody funny too.

Sian also sings. A lot. And her voice matches her glorious eyes :)

Maybe it’s because I knew what to expect this time; but something inside me says it was the lack of mystery. My most cherished memories of their 2004 show (“Musical Arson”) were of the trio’s eyes; this year, the subtlety has been dropped in favour of a more brash (and physical) form of theatrics. And I can’t remember Sian even opening her mouth in 2004; I can’t help but think that her vocal input (whilst sterling in its quality) has diminished the intrigue.

It’s even more bizarre that “The Specialists” is directed by Cal McCrystal, also responsible for the wonderful Bubonic Play. Still, Pluck are highly recommended – especially if you’ve not experienced them before.

The Love-Hungry Farmer

Des Keogh @ Little Theatre

5:00pm, Mon 27 Feb 2006

Score: 7

Initial impressions weren’t good; Des Keogh, in the title role as the 56-year-old virginal farmer who’d never found love, seemed to be merely reading through his script… no depth of emotion was on display. However, as the performance went on, the subtle nuances of this production came to light.

From the moment the lights go up, it’s clear that John Bosco McLane is a proud (but judgmental and objectifying) man – but the fact that he has never had a female partner is utterly bewildering to him. He reckons he’s a good catch, and is adamant that all the local women are being snaffled by townies; unable to account for their boorish success with the women, he proclaims “maybe God is a townie, too.”

The performance consists of various recounts of those periods of his life where he was closest to fulfilling his amorous desires – and these range from the humorous (speaking to the local Father in confessional, the districts sudden interest in inflatable dolls) to the tragic. Keogh lays it all bare, ranging Bosco from giddily childlike when proudly detailing some exploits, through to the abject humiliation he suffers at the hands of the young.

At the end of the performance, he looks spent and drawn – “if I don’t matter, nothing matters” – he’s failed to define his own life through the eyes of another. His search for love is also a search for a perceived betterment in himself; thus, it’s essentially a sad tale. But it certainly doesn’t feel like it at the time; whilst initially concerned, Keogh’s performance is wonderfully well measured. Recommended.

Night of the Birdmann

Birdmann @ The Gaiety Grande

10:00pm, Sun 26 Feb 2006

Score: 6

After seeing the Birdmann during The Grande Cabaret, I had a pretty good idea that this performance was going to be quirky. And I was far from wrong.

Birdmann’s talent lies in his timing. Delivering abstract comedy in a hushed near-monotone, his sense of dramatic pause for comedic effect is delicious. There’s a few little bits of old-school geekery – sitting in broken glass, some gentle juggling – but in the end, this largely inoffensive show can be summed up with just two words: “timing” and “abstract”.

It’s hardly essential viewing, but not a rip-off, either.

4:48 Psychosis

Brink Productions / Budgie Lung @ Queens Theatre Stables

8:30pm, Sun 26 Feb 2006

Score: 10

The final work of dramatist Sarah Kane before her suicide in 1999, “4:48 Psychosis” is an intense and brutal piece, written from the point-of-view of one person suffering from a severe bipolar disorder. Named after the time when most sufferers claim to feel both clear-headed and cold, each of the actors adopt an internal mental fragment of the main character, alternating with external characters (most notably, The Doctor).

Performances are superb: Lizzy Falkland carries a fragile nobility akin to Swinton; Elena Carapetis haunts with doleful eyes; Kate Box’s explosion of anger about half-way through the piece was nothing less than staggering; and Roman Vaculik rounds out the psychoses with edge. The fifth star is the glorious set; presented in the round, a foot of sand forms the stage upon which the cast remain, propped by a single chair. Glorious lighting is accompanied by a continuous fine mist from an overhead watering system; the humidity produced adds to the overall intense experience.

The performance itself was made even more surreal when, 15 minutes from the end, an audience member just behind me had some sort of fit (during one of the “shouting” psychoses scenes, no less) and collapsed, to be dragged out by his friends; that certainly added a memorable edge to the play. Brickbats, however, go to the freak who thought that the dropping of the house lights to end the play was a great time to fire off an SMS with his mobile phone acting like a 8 squillion lumen torch. Way to kill the mood, fuckknuckle.

Apparently, the text for “4:48 Psychosis” contains no explicit characters or staging directions; thus, productions vary greatly. The vision shown by director Geordie Brookman (and company) in creating this piece is exceptional; overall, this is an brilliant bit of theatre, and certainly marks a new level in quality for both Brink and Budgie Lung.

Kane herself first attempted suicide by swallowing 150 anti-depressants and 50 sleeping pills; those numbers seem familiar, making me think they were mentioned within “4:48 Psychosis”. A friend discovered her and rushed her to hospital; two days later Kane hung herself with her shoelaces in a toilet. She was 28.

Greg Fleet – Word Up

Greg Fleet @ Nova 1

6:00pm, Sun 26 Feb 2006

Score: 6

Jesus, Fleety. Every Fringe, I find myself saying exactly the same thing: “if only Fleety had the right material, he’d be awesome.” And so I continue to go to Fleety shows. And every time, I come away mildly satisfied – but also mildly disappointed. And frustrated.

After Fleety’s quick bit at the Comedy Benefit, hopes were high – it seemed there was a new, more politicised Fleety on the scene, ready to tackle the big issues and generally mudsling and muckrake. Alas, this show only poked and prodded without any real intent.

Nominally, Fleet claims that this show is about Words – their history, their use, their power. Introducing different sections of the show using a flip-chart – the most memorable section being “How To Talk Pretty While Punching Your Lady Friend” (or: how to become a “sweet talking fuck machine”) – he uses these titles as a springboard for ambling stories and the odd one-liner.

This time, however, he also relies on his daughter for a fair chunk of source material – and gets a few good laughs from that. Some other giggles come from the usual Fleety talking-with-riff-raff routine, and closing out with an extended version of his “I’m More Australian Than Youse” song.

Somewhere amongst the rabble Fleety referred to the ability to use words as weapons. Using that metaphor, this show would be like a blunt cudgel – quaint, pretty, but ultimately harmless.

Fringe Benefit

A whole bunch o’ people @ Adelaide Town Hall

12:00pm, Sun 26 Feb 2006

Score: 7

Whilst proceeds from ticket sales to this gig went to charities (Catherine House, The Magdalene Centre, and The Big Issue), I had an entirely selfish reason for attending this event. See, at the start of every Fringe I create a list of all the acts that I’d like to see, and then try to squeeze then into my schedule, cunningly entitled “The Schedule”. And most comedy shows are on at about the same times, somewhere between 7pm and 10pm. So this year, I thought I’d try to weed out some of the more dubious acts by seeing them in a short-form benefit such as this.

Mags Moore was our MC for the day and, to the groans of many, introduced Jane Lomax-Smith. Thankfully, she read the room well, and after a really short speech we were into the comedians:

• Ian Coppinger provided a solid guffaw or ten; a good opener.
• Peter Helliar & Em O’Loughlin raised a smirk or two, but that’s about all. Actually, “two” might be generous; but hey, it’s for charity.
• Bruno Lucia was an eye-opener; his bit, though mired in italian stereotyping, was well worth it, and the country guitar thingy at the end was bloody brilliant.
• Adam Vincent impressed, with his tales of “quite negative” cat abuse; he described himself as “negative and dark”, which sounds great; but he didn’t seem to excel at either enough for me to warrant inclusion in The Schedule.
• Lehmo’s set (focused on the Bali 9 and Corby incidents) was the best set I’ve ever seen him do.
• Akmal was ace – again, leveraging his ethnicity, but not overtly so.
• Des Clark – mind-boggingly brilliant. Really. One to add to The Schedule. Oh bugger, he’s on at the Governor Hindmarsh. Maybe not, then.
• Fiona O’Loughlin was much better than I thought she would be. Short set, but well constructed.

After an interval, Benefit Director Amanda Blair appeared onstage – despite having given birth at 7:30am, less than 7 hours earlier. She announced that the benefit had raised over $56,000. Everyone cheered. And then we’re back into the action:

• Wil Anderson’s act appeared to benefit from the “early in the day” aspect of the Benefit; he’d not had time to thoroughly pollute his system with neuromodifiers to the extent that he becomes a gibbering idiot. Plenty of re-used material, though.
• Arj Barker appeared a bit flat; that dropped him down a few pegs in the priority stakes.
• Tom Gleeson did surprisingly well; I was expecting him to be crap, but he surprised with a well-crafted bit.
• Maeve Higgins… never heard of her. Gentle and inoffensive, with a lovely accent.
• Justin Hamilton was shit, shit, shit. All drug jokes, and not a single good ‘un amongst them. Ripping off Larry Miller’s “5 Stages of Drinking” bit is unforgivable, doubly so when it’s done so poorly. Ugh, he’s off The Schedule… forever.
• Nick Sun, on the other hand, was brilliant. Self-deprecating, reflective, bloody funny. Added to The Schedule.
• Kehau Jackson was pretty good too, with her tales of mastectomy and whatnot.
• Greg Fleet raised my hopes for a quality show this year: he’s gone all political! “I’m More Australian Than Youse” was a great song, too.

And then Stephen K Amos takes the stage. And suddenly, you’ve forgotten all who have gone before him. The man is, quite simply, a comedy genius; he had the entire audience in fits of laughter, except for maybe his audience mark, Jack. Poor Jack. Poor Jack’s parents, who’ll have some uncomfortable explaining to do. But what a great exhibition of stand-up for the rest of the audience.

So there you have it. Four hours of uneven comedy, but at least it ended on a very high high. And how did it affect my Schedule? One stricken, one added, one re-prioritised. Mission… uh… accomplished.

The Grande Cabaret

A whole bunch o’ people @ The Gaiety Grande (Sideshow Paradiso)

11:59pm, Sat 25 Feb 2006

Score: 6

The Grande Cabaret is, as you might guess, a cabaret consisting of acts that are performing at the Gaiety Grande (within Sideshow Paradiso). And if you did indeed guess that, then you’re one up on me – I had no bloody idea.

Anyhoo, with the show staring a whopping 40 minutes late (at twenty-to-one in the morning), The Von Trolley Quartet provided a splendid musical backdrop for a show MCed by Birdmann, who warmed the crowd up by pouring water through his nose. Strong woman Ella Brawn hefted weights and audience members, Bam Bam provided wry slapstick, Ruby Rubberlegs proved to be really quite flexible, Eric the Robot Dog showed up (sans voice), and Joel Salom performed some excellent juggling… with the help of an audience member.

As previously mentioned, all the acts in this performance are either appearing in their own shows at the Gaiety Grande, or in Sideshow Paradiso’s Tiny Top ($5 for 15 minutes – pretty good VFM). This was a generous and entertaining collection of morsels that couldn’t help but pique interest.

Black Crow Lullabies (Part 2 & 3)

floogle @ Tea House Gallery (Synagogue Place)

9:35pm, Sat 25 Feb 2006

Score: 8

The second piece in the Black Crow Lullabies trilogy, “Eve’s Memory”, is a belter. It’s a touch more elusive than “Nod”, but the three-act script is wonderfully weighted; each passing moment seems to bring additional understanding to the convoluted story, which is almost told in reverse. Again, Patrick Graham puts in a great performance, whereas Sarah Hunt’s Eve wavers between the sublime and the adequate. And it’s really hard to say much more than that; this one has a familiar, yet unexpected sting in the tail which works very well.

(Oooh – I was just reading the script – I never realised that “Eve’s Memory” was supposed to take place in the same house as “one long night in the land of Nod”. Fantastic :)

The final piece in the trilogy, appropriately titled “The Lullaby”, is a more abstract piece again. Stilted language and fractured phrases make this piece much heavier going than the preceding pieces, though it’s in no way less worthy. However, this piece (more than the others) was both benefited and hampered by the intimate space floogle has set-up in the Tea House Gallery; the closeness to Patrick Graham’s performance is fantastic, but it impedes the overall viewing of the piece, especially for those at the back of the audience.

Super-kudos must be given to Patrick Graham – three very different performances within three hours… what a legend! Kudos, too, to the floogle collective in general: hopefully we’ll be seeing much more of them.

(See also Black Crow Lullabies (Part 1).)