Festival Freak

Well, it’s about time I got back to writing some of these shows up. I’ve had a lazy four months off, moved home, and have just found my backpack stuffed full of Fringe and Festival stuff; my head is a little clearer, so now there’s just the small matter of seventy-five shows to remember.

Seventy. Five.

Sigh.

Prediction: a brief flurry of posts, followed by a two-month lull, with another flurry around Christmas, and thirty increasingly brief recollections pumped out late January.

Aaaaaaaaaah fuck. What a fucking great day; what a fucking great Fringe :)

115. Death Conversation with Himalayan Cultural Eve
116. The Sound and the Fury

What? Just two shows? Well, there was a visit to the Helpmann Academy Graduate Exhibition this afternoon, followed by a trip to the Format ‘Zine Fair (another $150+ spent). This evening was, of course, dominated by the Fringe Awards ceremony, which surpassed all expectations.

Free booze (for awhile) was a good start, but the ability to go around thanking the people who make this stuff you love is just priceless. Queue jumping at the bar for Geraldine Quinn? My honour. Freefall getting Best Circus act? And me being able to rave at two increasingly uncertain and shirking teenagers that I thought their show was awesome? A delight. Stevl Shefn nabbing the best comedy award? Spot on the money.

And, to cap it all off, theater simple chats at HQ, followed by the usual suspects at TuxCat: Nik Coppin, Dr Brown. Some lost Clipsal blokes who decided that a good way to impress Irene was to show her a collection of Ford t-shirts. Anniene. Talking toilet etiquette with Andrew O’Neill. An impromptu stomach-buffer stop at MaccyD’s.

And the sweetest hug I can remember.

But now, sleep. 116 shows all up, plus another three that I saw twice, plus another one in the late sixties which I saw but didn’t realise was a Fringe show. Let’s just say 120 shows – 107 Fringe, 13 Festival. Visual arts excluded, of course.

So, yeah – sleep.

What started out as a relatively short, straightforward day turned into another panic-fuelled hop from one show to the next, with my brother performing sterling driving between Mahler and Plover, and an impromptu return of Pete & Irene (sung to the tune of Jack and Dianne) to Shaggers. More Ro Campbell can only be a good thing, even if half the room hated him.

111. My Name Is Rachel Corrie
112. Vital Organs Collective
113. Mahler 8: Symphony of a Thousand
114. The Sociable Plover

35. Shaggers

Just two shows left now: one Festival, one Fringe. And two parties. And two days left to drag my sleep pattern back six hours.

Early night tonight, I thought. 10:30pm finish, home by 11. Easy.

Fucking 5am it is.

95. This Is A Play

108. Faceless : Dead & Desirable
109. Andrew O’Neill: Occult Comedian
110. Eddie Ifft: Things I Shouldn’t Have Said

I tell you what, at about 3pm today I was seriously over all this. But a repeat viewing of the (excellent) This Is A Play, coupled with a pair of brilliant comedy acts at the Mercury, has pepped me right up again.

Of course, I’ve got another show in less than 9 hours. Tomorrow will be tricky.

You know what? Today was the day when – for the first time in 2010 – I first thought “I’m pretty much over this”. Thankfully, it’s the last of my Big Days. Plain sailing from here on in.

102. 52 Pick Up
103. On Ego
104. Austen Found – The Undiscovered Musicals
105. Good Morning Mister Gershwin
106. Bird in the Gilded Cage
107. Carl-Einar Häckner is Big In Sweden

Tonight is (or rather, was) the night when nominations for the Fringe Awards were to be debated. I spotted two Judges scooting between city visual art venues this afternoon, quickly ascertaining their worth. A pity that half the visual art displays I went to today had already been removed.

Today was the day of the annoying audience. Chatter and rustling papers and lip-smacking Chupa Chupping and mobile phones. It was also the day of Anniene’s latest project: The Hamlet Apocalypse is a brilliant bit of found-space anti-theatre.

99. Rhinoceros
100. Flight
101. The Hamlet Apocalypse

I remember the approach to my 100th show last year; I was expecting cancellations a-plenty and was on tenterhooks until that ticket stub was ripped – and then there was a tangible sense of relief. This year, Flight came and went with barely a second thought.

101 shows so far. I’ve written up 42. How shit is that?

March 9: Happy Birthday to me!

In the past I have had the knack of picking poor shows on my birthday, and “celebrated” in a grumpy fashion (as usually befits my birthday mood). This year, however… wow. Six amazing shows, at least two must-sees, and I got to spend time with lots and lots of lovely people (I like to name-drop, but am honestly afraid that I’ll miss someone). Awwwww – what a top day :)

93. The Snow Queen
94. Myth Understandings
95. This Is A Play
96. Weights
97. Scaramouche Jones
98. Bully

The last half of the day whizzed by in a blur; leaving the (brilliantly funny) This Is A Play at the Odeon with thirty minutes to get to Higher Ground, the closest bus goes AWOL, there’s a panicky twelve-minute cab ride with Shannon and Tess (still feeling guilty for having to borrow $5 from Tess to pay the cabbie), literally running into Weights and parking my arse just as Lynn takes to the stage, then running out of the long-running Weights and blagging my way into Scaramouche (my ticket was in the box office, not the door), then barely having time to grab a coffee and a wine before Bully – and then not being able to drink either for twenty minutes because… well, Bully is incredible. Wow… and Richard is, like, totally nice as well.

Great day. If only the rest of my 39th year could live up to that high standard!

After yesterday’s bedlam, today was nice and relaxing; a little sleep-in (oh wait… I only got to bed at 4am), lazy breakfast, a few show posts, then a trek to Holden Street for three-in-a-row. Easy!

90. Single Admissions
91. Heroin(e) for Breakfast
92. Goat Town

So I’m waiting for Single Admissions to start, and I notice some chap sitting in front of me turning around and staring at me. He nudges his wife, she peers too. I’m mystified – I’ve no idea who these people are. It turns out that they were sitting behind Tahli in How to be a Lady last night and heard us discussing various shows – “how many have you seen now?” He asked. We had a good old chat – they’re above-average Fringe-goers as well, so we swap horror stories and surprises and… well, it was just great to chat with them :)

Some decent shows today, too. Going to make for some interesting posts, too, if the notes are anything to go by… Mind you, show #90 will probably be posted in… oooh, September ;)

Hahahahaaaaa – now that was a day! Eight shows – and not a dud amongst them – rounded off with the tail-end of the Tuxedo Cat tribute show and the odd drinkypoo thereafter, watching Irene attempt to keep all her new friends at bay.

82. Bubblewrap and Boxes
83. Missing Pieces
84. A Captive Audience
85. Dye Young / Stay Pretty
86. DeAnne Smith: Ballsy
87. Geraldine Quinn – Shut Up and Sing
88. How to be a Lady
89. The Mad Max Remix

It was great to see Tahli again – it’s been too long – and she gave me a highlight for the day when I pointed Irene out to her… “oh, she’s the one who didn’t like Death in Bowengabbie!”

Of course, Irene would like to point out that she actually very much enjoyed the end of Bowengabbie – the Titanic bit. Which is quite disturbing, really ;)

Today was theatre-deconstruction day! The Walworth Farce and The Event both provide fantastic meta-theatre, but in completely different ways; the former, in particular, contains a truckload of stunning headfuckery… brilliant, brilliant stuff.

78. The Walworth Farce
79. Nobody Cares But You
80. The Event
81. Lost in the Mouth Specific

Did I mention that The Walworth Farce was more-than-a-bit-of-alright? Blimey, what a show. But a pretty bloody good day all ’round, I reckon.

Jamie Kilstein, eh? Bloody brilliant. Good to see a little cool weather and rain about – that should thin the late nite crowds out down The Garden, not that I noticed when I left there at 3am… :}

74. True Stories of Heroism and Adventure
75. Jamie Kilstein – Revenge of the Serfs
76. Steve Hughes – Heavy Metal Comedy
77. The Wau Wau Sisters’ Last Supper

Apologies to the Garden employee who I may have inadvertently berated post Wau Wau this evening; I’ve talked to her extensively previously, and bumped into her briefly tonight, whereupon she raved about the Last Supper. However, after having sat through that craptacular show, I may have vented a little too much in her direction. And may have been a little too pointed in my barbarous attack. So… sorry. It was a shit show, but it’s most certainly not your fault :}

What a completely oddball day… one show I initially dismissed before becoming mawkishly smitten with. One show that very very very nearly made me walk out and go home early… and one show that, had I succumbed to the aforementioned temptation, would’ve caused me to kick myself.

71. Man Covets Bird
72. An Awkward Seduction
73. Violet Rapscallion (a stray cabaret)

I put in my last order to FringeTIX today; the Schedule is now chockers. There’s not a single show on my Shortlist that I can fit in anywhere in the next ten days (well, that’s not strictly true – if I chose not to eat at all this Sunday, and all other shows run on-time, there’s another show I could catch at the TuxCat. And there’s one at midnight on Clipsal Saturday in The Garden I could catch, too… not bloody likely!)

A few other wacky bits for the day: Llysa rings me to tell me that Guy Masterson has name-dropped me (well, this blog, anyway) in the latest issue of The Adelaide Fix (Issue 7). Exciting! And this blog was also mentioned in a tweet from the Fringe office, too. And I happened to meet the ferociously talented Kym Begg, too (from last year’s Rough For Theatre II – “oh, you’re Pete the Festival Freak?”), and just discovered that this blog has been quoted on the ActNow Theatre for Social Change site. And these things make me grin, make me a little bit giddy; after all, I’m just a guy who sees a bunch of shows. And writes a little bit about, or around, or in spite of, them.

Grinning, I tell you. And only 39 shows behind in my show posts! ;)

And so we limp into the seventies – and there goes the Festival’s flagship. And what a stylish vessel it is, too.

68. True West
69. Le Grand Macabre
70. Le Garçon Néurotique

The twisty turny convolutions I mentioned last night have been resolved… mostly. Sure, it’s not the best outcome I could have hoped for, but one I can still find some joy in. At least, that’s what the rational mind is telling me ;)

It’s all good, though! Picked up the penultimate batch of thirteen tickets from FringeTIX today, had a natter about the pros and cons of Zeitgeist, and successfully managed to be the most slobbishly-dressed person in the Festival Theatre this evening. Which I kinda revel in, actually; especially when there’s a surtitle that says “Thanks to all our sponsors and Angels.”

Bless :)

Blimey. Bit of a quiet one, today. Mind you, there was the best part of three hours of Shakespeare involved.

66. Hell West And Crooked
67. The Life and Death of King John

Talked to Guy Masterson outside the Queens Theatre this evening, who politely reminded me I’ve not seen any of the theatre on offer at Higher Ground yet… I really must do something to rectify that. Also chatted with Steve Sheehan during the Rhino Room Late Show (an unplanned excursion which did little to quell The Shortlist), which was nice :)

There’s more, but I’m not in a chatty mood. My brain’s starting to get in a slightly weird place, with twisty turny convolutions doing my head in. Very different from Fringe Burnout, though – thankfully.

…and with the onset of the Festival of the Arts, things start slowing down somewhat. Bigger shows, more awkward time investments.

63. Shanghai Beauty
64. Felicity Ward reads from The Book of Moron
65. Lady Carol

I’m still a bit pissy that the Artist Talk associated with Shanghai Beauty was moved from the initially scheduled time (after tonight’s show). That was the only reason I chose this evening! Harrumph.

I found it quite ironic that I was spruiked for Drags Aloud whilst prominently holding the Shanghai Beauty programme, too. It’s the little things, eh?