Festival Freak

Not As Others

Jo Lloyd, Sarah Cartwright, Alison Currie, Ana Grosse @ Ausdance (Leigh Street)

4:00pm, Sun 19 Mar 2006

I wasn't really sure about this one; Fringe + Dance doesn't usually yield a great performance (witness one of my fave reviews ever, Bound Sonata). However, after a late start this piece really put itself head and shoulders above most of the genre's competition for FF2006.

The piece is performed in the round… well, in the square, anyway. It's a tight installation, with cushions and chairs right up to the edge of the performance square. Three woman stand, sit, lie in three corners of the square; there's a persistent and foreboding noise coming from the audio system.

The performance starts… the music changes to sound like the droney bits from the Quake I soundtrack - dark, moody, ace. The standing woman bites into a carrot with a very crisp crunch… her greengrocer must have the freshest of the fresh. She snaps off a bit of carrot and throws it at her sitting colleague, who eats it. She throws another chunk, then another, another… the sitting woman tries to stuff it all into her mouth, fails. They collect carroty bits into the corner of the stage. All stand.

And then we begin an odd little exploration of what appeared to be obsessive/compulsive behaviours, aggression between and towards women, and the effect of social isolation on the individual… weighty stuff indeed, and beautifully performed.

If I was being picky, I'd say that this piece was probably not best presented in the round; no matter where you sat, you were going to have action obscured from you at some stage. Other than that, there's little more to say other than - this was brilliant; in terms of dance, it was second only to Stau for the year.

As I stood in the foyer reading the program, I noted that one of the dancers, Ana Grosse, had a credit for Lontano Blu. "Oh no," thought I, "no no no no no." Luckily, she was absolutely fantastic in this piece, as opposed to the strangulated "dancing" in Blu; yet another smack-down to that piece of crap that sadly still sticks in my mind.

Posted by pete at 12:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Rap Canterbury Tales

Babasword Productions @ The Pillar Room (Freemasons)

9:00pm, Sat 18 Mar 2006

I'm a big fan of Chaucer, but I was reluctant to see this show on the off-chance that it sucked. However, one of the volunteers at Freemasons that I regularly chatted to positively raved about this show - so it got slotted in.

Baba Brinkman presents three of Chaucer's characters wrapped up in an improbable story of rap adulation. The framework is flimsy, but when he delves into his rap-ified versions of the Pardoner, the Miller, and the Wife of Bath, the laughs come thick and fast - and the intelligent writing of the piece shines through.

Transforming the original prose in a more-or-less direct manner (there's a sample translation on The Rap Canterbury Tales site) is a gutsy move, but the academic background of the piece shines through. There's the occasional cringe at some of the rhymes or rhythms that Baba chooses, but the stories hold their own; and "The Rhyme Renaissance", his conclusion to the show, is earnest and engaging.

There's a certain honest naivety to the performance; Brinkman has poured his heart into the writing and the performance, and - whilst occasionally feeling a little cheap and cheesy - the Rap Canterbury Tales benefits from an intelligent analysis of both 14th century subversive poetry and 20th century urban rap. It may not the wittiest, sharpest, rudest, lewdest, or deepest show of the Fringe, but it provides plenty of quality entertainment and - above all - treats the audience with respect.

Posted by pete at 12:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

My Family Is Strange

Jess McKenzie (and friends) @ SA Writers' Centre

7:00pm, Sat 18 Mar 2006

Though I selected this performance in my initial 250-odd-show scan through the Fringe Guide, I was prepared to give it a miss; however, in the queue for La Clique, a young chap raved to me about Ms McKenzie; always one to honour a promise, I slotted the show in, and arrived in the Writers' Centre to see a small and enthusiastic crowd.

Including some of Jess' family. Which I thought was a bit odd, since the act was purportedly about them.

No matter. Jacob the Incredible opened up, trying to garner a few laughs from the unreceptive crowd with a few ballsy jokes. I admire his courage but, when you start ripping off Bill Hicks' "Children" bit - word for word - you lose points real quick. Strangely enough, that bit got Jacob his biggest laughs. +1 courage, -2 IP theft. Sorry.

Jess herself did two small sets, and demonstrated great style - alternating the sweet with the sick, cute naive girl with weary cynical woman. Deft with delivery, and unafraid to delve into utterly gross humour, she's got a metric truckload of talent, and just needs to mould her material with a little more care. Give her another Fringe or two, and she'll be headlining - and pulling in huge crowds. I dunno what her grandmother in the audience would've thought of some of the familial descriptions, though ;)

The star of the night, though, was Dee Galipo. Singing some great original & covers, playing guitar, she even managed to manipulate the generally distant audience (ie, me - "The Guy With No Rhythm"). Yes, that's right, I got conned into playing a little egg shaker as accompaniment for one of Dee's clever and articulate comedic songs. Stunning voice, decent guitar, great presence… a real winner.

In short, this was a show that was high on potential and delivered just enough enjoyment to make it worthwhile. A few Fringes, a little more experience, level-headed editing, and we're in for a blinder.

Posted by pete at 10:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Fever

theater simple @ The Ballroom (Carclew Youth Arts Centre)

4:00pm, Sat 18 Mar 2006

It was always my intention to see The Fever twice during FF2006, if only because I knew that the experience of hosting a salon performance would cloud my perception of the performance itself. Thus, I reasoned, I should catch a theatrical presentation so that I could fully appreciate the power of the piece.

So all my plans and theories get crushed into tiny little bits and thrown away when, shows scheduled and tickets bought, Llysa tells me that this one-off Carclew performance was intended to be an encore salon-type presentation, demonstrating the piece in a non-theatrical setting to those who missed out on the opportunity of attending a salon performance themselves. Bugger, but no matter; I cunningly snaffled my seat in a comfy couch at the back of the packed room and focused on the work at hand.

Of course, a lot of the words were familiar, but - in the bright light of day, in surroundings unfamiliar - The Fever took on a very different feel, a different texture. I could lean back, close my eyes, and drink the overtly lyrical text in; hear the conflicts and struggle of a character, see in it so much of myself, let pictures be painted in my mind through closed eyelids blurred red from the sunlight streaming into the room.

And it really is a glorious piece of writing. Wallace Shawn's work is both personal and political, revels in both the minutiae and the massive. We travel with The Speaker, flitting in time throughout their life, observing the moments that define and the actions that conflict. For someone both outwardly assured and privileged, their internal struggles to reconcile past opportunities in the present situation are both alien in context and familiar in content.

I open my eyes, and the room is still. The Fever has gripped the audience, and as The Speaker staggers to their feet in the cold light of day, Llysa Holland bookends the performance by passing through the stunned crowd. The applause is hesitant at first, then loud and longing. The lingerers - and there are many, myself included - are the people who are genuinely affected by the power of theater simple's work, and by Shawn's delirious writing.

Posted by pete at 10:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Bogus Woman

Leicester Haymarket Theatre @ Queens Theatre

1:00pm, Sat 18 Mar 2006

The Bogus Woman is one of those plays that the New Wave of Fringe producers seem to love; it's a multi-character piece played by one actor, so it's cheap to tour and guarantees (at least) the perception of value-for-money to the audience. And that's fine - it certainly shows off the technical abilities of the actors - but it doesn't carry the "WOW" factor that it once did… especially with the plethora of one-man-shows that are around at the moment.

But onto the story: we follow the ordeals of one Young Woman who, after the mass murder of her family and her subsequent rape and torture, flees her native country and arrives in England, where she is arrested and interrogated at Heathrow Airport. From there, she is incarcerated in a refugee "centre", where she experiences brutal conditions and the resultant cries for humanity: pleas, protests, riots.

Eventually she is released and ekes out a joyful existence in London, relying on the kindness of others to support her hope for immigration. A few cruel twists of fate tear this existence from her, reducing her to a street urchin, forcing her into prostitution, and eventually seeing her arrested and deported - leading to the end that we all, somehow, knew was coming.

This Kay Adshead play won oodles of plaudits when performed at Edinburgh in 2000; considering the treatment that refugees receive in this country by the hands of "our" Government, this play can be seen as a topical, yet overtly political, piece of work. Sarah Niles plays the (allegedly) 48 characters in the piece - plus the Bogus Woman herself - and is stunning… powerful describes her performance best.

The Bogus Woman certainly gathered a lot of word-of-mouth momentum during the course of the Fringe; the matinee I attended, on the closing weekend of the Fringe (traditionally a dead time for crowds), certainly garnered a solid house at one of the Fringe's largest theatrical venues. And that's great for the Fringe, and great for theatre. But I left the theatre sadly underwhelmed. I don't know whether it was ninety-show malaise, or that I had been led to expect more than what any performance should be able to provide. Yes, it was a technically wonderful performance, and it certainly was a powerful script - but it failed to engage me as much as other performances.

Posted by pete at 09:33 PM | Permalink

(((Strange Sights & Sonic Delights For Synaesthetes)))

InterZone eXpress @ FAD Gallery

11:59pm, Fri 17 Mar 2006

The Fringe Guide's description for this piece certainly paints an evocative description:

Inspired by cut-up methods & stroboscopic flicker experiments of Burroughs/Gysin, InterZone eXpress present a performance series involving live multi-channel ultra-sonics & omnipotent visual accompaniment. Aiming to unlock the hidden power of rhythm, frequency, & light to isolate & hypnotise senses, induce temporal states, & create atmospheres both amniotic & monolithic.

With a description like that, I expected soundscapes, integrated visuals, and a bohemian crowd. Upon arrival, the crowd appeared to be friends-only and they were all pissed. And/or stoned. But certainly not out of the bounds of expectation. We all squeeze upstairs into the extremely cramped Gallery, where there are a few chairs, a lot of cushions, and a shitload of people lying on the floor. A third of the floorspace at the Waymouth Street end of the Gallery was covered with musical gear a-plenty - guitars, drums, electronics. A screen hung from the roof; random discordant images were projected onto it from the control desk, which was also laden with three PCs.

After about an hour of setting up, the two chaps on-"stage" encourage us to apply our provided blindfolds and launch into their first piece of three for the morning (another piece was planned, but technical difficulties cut the performance short). Each piece is structurally the same - starting simply, the two use fed-back loops of whatever they're playing to build up repetitive and increasingly complex soundscapes (thus fulfilling my expectations). One piece was completely guitar driven (reminding me of a 46-guitar symphony I once heard), the final piece was a gloriously driven drum crescendo, and I'm buggered if I can remember the other one.

Now, I'm no synaesthesia guru, and I have to admit that I was a little confused as to why we were presented with blindfolds and visual inputs - surely there's some contradiction there? But, with the benefit of hindsight, this was a good move; if indeed this was a synaesthetic experiment, it offers a number of avenues of exploration for the punters. The visuals did nothing for me, but may have been a positive for others.

And I'd be lying if I said this was utterly enjoyable - it's simply not that kind of music that's immediately accessible. And, truth be told, I'd much rather have been at home in bed (after three long weeks of FF2006). But, in persevering though this presentation, I found an unexpected pleasure in just leaning back, closing my eyes, and drifting with the incessant rhythm of the pieces. Monotonous, sure - but there's a simple lulling comfort to be had there.

Posted by pete at 04:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Human Layer

Polaroid Now @ a mystery venue :)

7:30pm, Fri 17 Mar 2006

Attracted by the bizarre description in the Fringe Guide, I met up with about a dozen other punters outside CentrePoint on Pultney Street. On a Friday night. OK, maybe not the wisest choice for those adverse to crowds, but there you go.

We're greeted outside Target by one of the Victoria-based Polaroid Now crew who, true to their name, take a Polaroid photo of our hands. And you sense this is going to be something a little bit off the beaten track. And so it - literally - is, as we're led on a stroll down Pultney onto Pirie Street. Suddenly, we turn into a dead-end lane - construction on one side of us, car-park on the other.

There, from a pile of newspaper, rustles a man - grimy, gruntingly mute, looking like stereotypically homeless trash. He's joined by a similarly themed woman; they grunt and moan, lock the audience in a large wire cage, and producing icky little avatar puppets.

The puppets laugh at, spit at, piss on us within the cage. It feels like an intentionally-subtle-yet-unintentionally-overt political statement, but the impact is heightened due to our own semi-cramped captivity. Eventually, the man and woman discard their avatars in disgust; they enter our cage, disappearing behind a previously disregarded screen before having their shadows cast upon it. The shadows mutilate each other, an avatar is devoured, before the screen drops, exposing the man and woman again. Out of a pile of rubbish they raise a huge newspaper puppet, at least seven feet tall; the two of them walk it to the end of the lane, lay it to rest, then burn it. As the embers of this once mighty creation drift in the air, the man and woman cower in a corner.

It's an outdoors site-specific work and, on a somewhat cold, damp and dank night, the crew were a little worried about getting rained on. No precipitation eventuated, but what they did get, however, was a short visit from Chubb security, wondering what the fuck was going on. It was only a momentary diversion for the alert punter, though, and didn't affect the overall enjoyment of the piece.

And, I have to say, I really enjoyed this. It was one of those performances where you get completely thrilled by someone else's creative ability. Where you think "there's no way I could come up with this." Where you get completely immersed in another's vision. Where you come away thankful that you took a chance. Where you feel like you've helped validate another's existence.

Where you feel like you've witnessed art.

Posted by pete at 12:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Akmal LIVE

Akmal @ Nova 1

9:45pm, Thu 16 Mar 2006

This was the kind of act that, much like Danny Bhoy in 2004, was bloody funny while I was there, but completely forgettable after-the-fact.

So, what do I remember about the show? I remember that Quentin was there; a bit spooky after seeing Diablo a few nights back. Akmal's Give-A-Young-Comic-A-Chance sidekick Joel Ozborn was reasonable; two Fringes, I reckon, and he'll be headlining a Nova 1 show himself. Or maybe a Gaiety Grande gig, who can tell.

But most memorable of all was the fact that Akmal returned fire to Daniel Kitson. Akmal claimed that Kitson had been molested as a child, that he hates life, that he should be locked in a room with The Pope and John Laws… all raised honest and agreeable applause from the crowd which, given Kitson's superb standing as a comedian, was frankly worrying. Then again, these are probably the same types of people that think that Rachel Berger was a talented comedienne. Ho, hum.

I like Akmal - he appears to be friendly and genuine, and has the benefit of having an earnest and endearing style. In fact, I only resolved to see this show after I was impressed by his showing at the Fringe Benefit. I know I had a gigglingly good time at this, but my lack of recollection why leads me to believe that he just produces good quality, but ultimately unchallenging, comedy. That's alright, as far as it goes - there's always going to be a place for the act that doesn't engage on a cerebral level. If that's what you're after, Akmal is one of the best.

Posted by pete at 12:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Tomás Ford's Cabaret Of Death

Tomás Ford @ The Warehouse (East End Exchange Hotel)

8:30pm, Thu 16 Mar 2006

Apparently, I'm a bit of a no-crowd magnet. Nothing else would explain the lack of people at a whole bunch of shows that I've been to. The two of us that were waiting for admittance to the show (joined by a solitary - but enthusiastic - latecomer) were greeted at the door by Tomás - scrawny, disheveled, and sporting a bruised face and massive black eye. Considering the warnings I'd been given by one of the volunteers at Freemasons (who claimed to have seen a Tomás Ford self-destruction set at the Fringe Club), this was only mildly unexpected.

The Cabaret Of Death is very much a one-man-show. Accompanied by a laptop-powered musical backing, Ford prowls the stage belting out both original and cover tunes. He hands out bottles of bubbles and party poppers; he trashes the stage; he serenades his audience of three; he stalks the length of the room; he croons demurely in a foetal position. Make no mistake, this is an act of beautifully weighted contrasts.

His music, hacked together with a PC-based sequencer, sounds like cheap and dirty 4-track techno; but it's good, and demonstrates that Ford has all the pop-sensibilities of Reznor, but without the sell-out teen angst… he replaces that with a keen eye and ear, cleverly constructed lyrical insights into the everyday that are at once caustic and cozy. It sounds like an early industrial pioneer experimenting with bubblegum pop, whilst getting a Tourettes-ridden Eels vox overdub. Or something. It's bloody good fun, anyway.

That Ford manages to turn Radiohead's "Creep" into an even more disturbing torch song (rather than the usual ironic crap that other performers seem happy to create) is testament to this man's commitment to his art. Tomás Ford's Cabaret Of Death is unsettling, disturbing, and utterly compelling.

Tomás has some songs available on MySpace and Download.com - which is a great cue for everyone to tell me how wrong I am.

Posted by pete at 11:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Hot Pink Bits

Penash Productions @ The Chandelier Room (Freemasons)

6:45pm, Thu 16 Mar 2006

Yet another Kiwi in The Chandelier Room, and Penny Ashton (no, that link isn't a porn site) is certainly up there with the best of them. Presenting a frivolous blend of song, poetry, glitzy costumes, and standup, she gave the great crowd (reviews and word-of-mouth have obviously been kind to her) a quality show.

Singing over pre-recorded backing tracks, her lyrics are witty - the rap & western songs being standout; her poetry (especially the Angry Poem) was miles better than other poetry seen in FF2006; and from a crowd perspective, Penny was just plain fun - friendly, affable, with just the right mix of self-appreciation and self-denigration.

Great singing, great humour, great stage presence - what's not to love?

Posted by pete at 10:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

hmmm...

Nicholas Sun @ Club 199

9:30pm, Wed 15 Mar 2006

Nick Sun was a revelation at the Fringe Benefit: I thought his self-deprecating style was great, and immediately slotted this show into The Schedule. And now here I was, upstairs in Club 199, with maybe a dozen other punters, willing Nick on to unleash his comedic force. Waiting to be entertained, to be guided on a journey of comfortable mirth.

Ummm…

…this was not that kind of show.

This is, quite frankly, astonishingly difficult to write about. Everything that I instinctively want to commit to this post makes it seem like Sun is the duddest of the duds, the most painful comic that I've been witness to - but that's so far from the truth.

First up, the content… he plays the burnt-out standup character with aplomb, draws heavily on his Adelaide and UK experiences (backpacker hostel stories, handing out flyers in the Mall, heckles from bums), and leverages his asian appearance to get some laughs from the four asian pre-paids in the front tables of the Club. But he's at his best when making fun of himself - responding to audience silence with "I'm not actually a comic, I'm a motivational speaker", and managing expectations by reminding us "fuck it - it's seven bucks".

Style-wise, there's a few obvious Bill Hicks-isms - the "waffle waitress" is transformed into a taxi driver, the talking to himself onstage. There's a lot of pregnant pauses that are as much the audience's doing as his, but you get the feeling that Sun doesn't mind that at all. He's not afraid to admit a mistake, and showed a willingness to back out of jokes not going anywhere.

Perhaps I just found it easy to identify with him. Sun claims that he's not anti-social, just pro-solitude (just like me). Also like me, he's a pessimist… "there's only so many times you can be raped by hope before you realise you're in an abusive relationship." Uh, maybe we're not that similar after all. But some tracts of dialogue are so full of longing, of desperation, of lonely melancholy, that they almost invoke genuine pity - but then the laughs kick in, and the pity is pushed to the back of your brain in bewilderment.

Highlights? His (half-a-star) review of his 'Tiser review was full of honest hatred and disgust; starting off reasonably gentle, it rapidly descends into a vicious skull-fucking tirade that was both shocking and gut-bustingly funny. And it's long scripted diatribes such as this that are Sun's forte; his use of language, his careful placement of words, and the menace behind them is, frankly, without equal.

Finally, about 40 minutes in, he crouches - literally hiding from the audience - behind the DJ's desk and plays a couple of minutes of a recording by another comedian. Then he starts playing the theme from Twin Peaks, and it's beautiful; it suits the melancholy to which he clutches perfectly. The final twenty minutes are a confronting mix of noise from the DJ desk mixed with Sun's descent into complete self-annihilation. He continues hiding from the audience behind the desk, breathing into the feedback-treated mike, occasionally begging the audience to leave, reminding us that our problems are still waiting to be faced; unsure, and terribly uncomfortable, the audience eventually wanders out of Club 199 into the misting rain.

In short, Nick Sun is a comic genius… no, that's disingenuous. He's my comic hero.

Posted by pete at 09:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Diablo

Brasch House @ Belgian Beer Café

8:00pm, Wed 15 Mar 2006

I read the description for Diablo in the Fringe Guide…

We at Diablo refuse to describe our show in fifty words. However we will take this opportunity to voice our opinion of Chickens. We think they're stupid.

Diablo turned out to be a dual-standup gig featuring Chris Wainhouse and Paul Brasch (this team was known as "Diablo 2" - "Diablo 1" being Paul Brasch and (the enigmatically-named) Davo). As far as standup goes, it covered a the usual topics - how crap Adelaide is, et al - and also chased a few unusual threads… the recurring cavemen jokes (mobile phones, pigs) were… odd.

The thing that differentiated this performance from other standup was the attitude, the venom. The lads weren't afraid of making enemies or alienating the audience… when they decided to rip into Quentin, they really tore into him, good taste and political correctness be damned. Wainhouse, in particular, took this approach to the extreme - he was all piss and bitterness, no sugar.

Well, bugger all people found a reason to see Diablo in action; the few stragglers from the previous event in the Belgian Beer Café who hung around to see this show gratis soon left in disgust. In fact, by the time the guys onstage asked for the house lights to be raised, there was no-one sitting in front of Wainhouse - which actually seemed to spur him on.

As for me… I fucking loved this show. The groan-worthy bits (mostly Brasch) were more than eclipsed by the sheer nasty diggery of Wainhouse's "Smiling Nazi" comedy-fu. Some of the jokes broke through the boundaries of good taste and went roaming into areas of maybe-free-speech-isn't-all-it's-cracked-up-to-be, but it never stopped being funny. Sure, you felt guilty as hell for laughing, but… you were still laughing.

Post-gig, I bumped into Wainhouse and congratulated him on what I thought was a great show. He grinned, genuinely gentle in person, and proceeded to explain how Diablo was essentially an experiment to see whether the three of them (Diablans?) could work together. All I can say to that is: yes. Yes, you can.

Posted by pete at 06:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The von Trolley Quartet

@ The Gaiety Grande

7:00pm, Wed 15 Mar 2006

I was a bit pissed at the von Trolleys after cancelling their 4pm Monday show in favour of performing the musical backing for the Busker Competition finalists; however, the Gaiety Grande peeps honoured my ticket for this evening's performance, which I presumed would also be cancelled due to the miniscule audience.

There were six of us.

Veronica, Tracey, Amy, Stuart, Mary-Anne, and myself.

These names I know, because the von Trolleys asked that we introduce ourselves.

And then insisted on leading us on a merry chase outside and around the Gaiety Grande, bookended between 30 second snippets of music.

Music… ah yes, the music. For those who don't know, The von Trolley Quartet are three clowns who play big rock style with tiny instruments. Ukulele-sized guitar, tiny bass, and a drumkit with a bass the size of a dinner plate, a snare the size of a cup. Comical in appearance, but ferociously talented, they tore through the Star Wars theme, some classic Kiss ("I Was Made For Lovin' You"), and even AC/DC ("It's a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock 'n' Roll)"). A quick visit from Barbara The Musical Sheep (Baabraa?), a few more ditties, and our 50 minutes is up.

Short, sharp, sweet… and memorable. The von Trolleys were ace.

Posted by pete at 05:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

A Conversation

Stir Theatre @ UniSA City West (HH5-08)

12:00pm, Wed 15 Mar 2006

Utilising the concept of restorative justice, David Williamson's A Conversation explores the complex and prickly emotions surrounding violent crime. The restorative justice angle allows Williamson to tackle issues on both sides of the criminal/victim fence; the end result, whilst not the most polished gem, is certainly engaging and thought-provoking.

The lecture theatre venue creates an odd feel as the characters arrive for their meeting; Derek and Barbara, the parents of a girl brutally raped and murdered by a young man currently up for parole review. The man's mother, uncle, and siblings appeal to the girls parents for compassion, offering up their own grief to counter that of the victims. Facilitating the meeting is Williamson's anti-hero Jack Manning (under-played by a Ledger-esque Tristan Hudson), whose most aggressive act is bullying lawyer Gail into staying for the meeting too.

The initial interactions play out as you'd expect - Derek, the grief-stricken holier-than-thou father, surrounds his pain with hard facts, his confrontational nature making the meeting seem pointless. The family of the perpetrator trot out the "we know he's a bad egg, but he's family" line. The accusations seem to repeat themselves ad infinitum. But then subtle changes occur, as evidenced by the targets of blame. The boy, the girl, the lawyer, the suburb, the government, society in general - all are brought to bear by Williamson, and none are allowed to remain white or black. Choice versus opportunity (or lack thereof) is another theme that seems to permeate the script that didn't feel afraid to point fingers everywhere and offer no real solutions.

The cast is patchy - there's some delightful character work (witness the tense coffee-making ceremony of Bob and Coral), but also some dead weight (Mick and Lorin, the criminal's very different siblings, are each annoying in their own unique ways). As previously mentioned, the central character of Jack is perhaps too soft; but the pivotal roles of Derek and Barbara (Patrick Frost and Helen Geoffreys, respectively) were utterly convincing - recalling Derek roar "he's not part of my world" still brings chills.

As I write this, I'm struck by the similarities this piece has to 12 Angry Men, and that's not necessarily a bad thing… both presented a seemingly cut-and-dried scenario, then twisted it into a compassionate pretzel. At 2 hours, A Conversation is perhaps a touch over-long, and the constantly circling script (loops of blame, guilt, responsibility abound) and repeated phrases treat the audience with all the subtlety that one expects from the classic Australian playwright. But sometimes the sledgehammer approach is the best way to make your point; A Conversation certainly demonstrates this by frequently smacking us soundly with the premise, and letting us draw our own conclusions. Satisfying stuff, indeed.

Posted by pete at 05:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

La Clique… A Sideshow Burlesque

La Clique @ The Famous Spiegeltent

10:30pm, Tue 14 Mar 2006

After a plethora of huge raves about its spectacular and refined nature, La Clique became the hottest ticket of the Fringe, selling out the last dozen or so performances. The capacity of the Spiegeltent, multiplied by $30/head, means that this show was causing some serious turnover. So I was pretty happy to snaffle my ticket; but imagine my joy when I arrive at the venue half an hour before the scheduled start of the show and find the queue twisting and turning around the Garden, hundreds of people patiently waiting.

Shit.

My luck didn't pan out as well as it did with The Burlesque Hour, either, though I still scored a reasonable fourth row seat. Reasonable view of the centre stage, and at least I wasn't standing like the peeps at the very end of the queue.

The show opened with a nice bit of operatic singing by Ali McGregor - all very lovely, but it triggered the "style over substance" warning bells in my head. The Dual Acrobats… er, The English Gents, runners-up in the busker's competition(!) on the weekend, came out next - they're bloody brilliant, quite astonishingly powerful fellows who amaze with style and grace; superb control, strength, and balance. But what were they doing in the busker's competition in the first place? Don't they already have a professional gig? Ho hum, that's a whinge for another day.

Miss Behave appears for a cheeky little play with the crowd, then Captain Frodo performs his gob-smacking tennis racquet trick - twisting, breaking, and contorting himself through not one, but two racquet heads. There's equal parts gross-out, incredulity, and lunatic giggling as we watched him flail about the stage, limbs pinned and shoulders popped, sending his microphone flying. Amazing stuff. The first act is rounded out by Ursula Martinez performing a bit of strip magic - ooooh, ever-so-risque, she's pulled her hidden silk out from her unmentionables! Gasp, shock, horror, titillate… but funny nonetheless.

The second act starts with a little more operatics, then Ursula returns (with clothes) for a bit of cockney spanish guitar. Captain Frodo did a balancing act, perching atop an unfeasibly high pyramid of cans, though I could've sworn I'd seen this act a couple of years ago. Miss Behave does a decent sword swallowing act, and then comes the finale - the powerful David O'Mer performing feats of strength and balance, clad only in snugly fitting jeans. This is the act that provided the spectacular imagery for La Clique's advertising; you could hear all the women (and, truth be told, most of the men) in the Spiegeltent swoon every time O'Mer slowly raised himself out of his bathtub using his overhead ropes - muscles taut, this act was all about control.

It wasn't all highlights, though - the trapeze act was average (certainly in comparison to the other acts), and the most spectacular thing about the hoops bit was the proximity to the crowd. But overall, La Clique is certainly a comprehensive and enjoyable collection of acts. But let's face it, it's hardly the most ground-breaking or risqué act at the Fringe; but they'll be happy to take the money off the crowds who are convinced that it is.

Posted by pete at 05:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

sixatsix

Unhinged Incorporated @ The Pillar Room (Freemasons)

6:00pm, Tue 14 Mar 2006

I had great reservations heading into this; for starters, I couldn't remember quite why I'd booked tickets to the show. All fears were dispelled, however, with the first of the six short plays (played by members of Wollongong's Unhinged Incorporated collective) on offer.

• A Hole sees a seedy politician after a bit of action in his discrete hotel room. Samuel Booth is the ultimate sleaze, but Katrina Rautenberg is superb as his date for the evening… with a twist.
• Freedom Pigeon is a twisted vision of the future, and wryly funny too.
• I…(Door) is a thought-provoking, overtly existential piece.
• Fruit Tingles was, for me, the flat spot in the performance; though others loved this fruity tale.
• Tramp introduces the awesome character of Scott Godot (IIRC) who we're sure to see more of… an incredible street beat poet, swearing like a trooper. Fan-fucking-tastic.
• Last Resort rounds out the collection with the invention of The Last Resort… your own little suicide machine. Fast, fun, furious, fabulous - with a brilliant ending.

Throughout all six pieces, there seems to be a political bent; subtle in some (2), more overt in others (the seedy politicians in the first, the Liberal Party jingle being responsible for suicides in the last). But pigeons come in for a lot of abuse too, so there's no need to read too much into it. And nothing can deny the quality and sheer enjoyability of the hour of theatre on offer.

Posted by pete at 11:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

160 Characters

Vanilla Productions @ The Umbrella Revolution

8:30pm, Mon 13 Mar 2006

As the audience is seated - we're cheekily reminded to keep our phones on - a mobile number is presented; we're asked to forward SMS messages from our Inboxes to the number. It's explicitly stated that we're not to write new messages, just share messages we've been sent or have written.

The mobile phone attached to the provided number starts beeping like a very rapidly beepy thing. Its Inbox fills up… and we're off.

The six people in Vanilla Productions take turns selecting interesting messages from the phone, using them as inspiration for a spot of improvisational comedic theatre. They're all competent at improv, some of the twists they subject each other too were brilliantly off the wall, and it was a pleasant old laugh - especially when the team tried their hand at Kiwi accents.

This turned out a little different to what I was expecting; I guess the idea I'd created was that the action would be interactively controlled by the audience. Alas, things were a little more static than that; essentially, this just boiled down to a bit of TheatreSports with a hook to bring in the audience.

Not a shitty show but, having experienced it, not one I'd rush off to again.

Posted by pete at 10:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

LaLaLuna

Negus Productions @ The Umbrella Revolution

7:00pm, Mon 13 Mar 2006

It should be known, up front, that I'm not a fan of Cirque du Soleil; I find their brand of loosely-referential acrobatics and trickery, drowned in a sticky syrup of whimsy, quite sickening. A little like Balfour's Frog Cakes, really - looks pretty, and is lovely - until you've eaten one whole, whence you're sick to your stomach with ickiness.

Which is a shame for the LaLaLuna show - because it's like a one-man, budget Cirque du Soleil production. Sure, there's some great tricks in there - like the balloon stunt, in which a giant balloon is inflated, and is then climbed inside - but it's enveloped in this sweet, smug bubblewrap that had me reaching for the vomit bag.

There's obviously a bit more money than your average Fringe production behind this - it's certainly not your average one-chair-prop gig - but it's delivered a generally dull product.

Posted by pete at 10:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Up In Smoke

CirKidz @ Sideshow Paradiso

5:00pm, Mon 13 Mar 2006

First up - not the greatest circus act I've ever seen. Not even close.

That's because we're talking about Adelaide's own CirKidz here - essentially, young performers in training... emphasis on the young. So there's none of the death-defying stuff that we (I) am becoming a bit blasé about, because let's face it - who wants to see a kid hurt themselves?

So this ragged collection of children go through their selection of tumbling, balancing, trapeze and hoop-work. Yes, their presentation skills aren't up to scratch. Yes, they bugger up the odd trick or four. Yes, the theatrical components are often over-acted to the point of absurdity.

But you know what?

You can just sense that, in two years time, rather than unfurling themselves for three rolls on the tissue, one of these little buggers will be rolling down from the roof. Of a very large tent. And bringing the audience to their feet with applause.

However - with the exception of the eldest boy in the group (who was quite insanely flexible) - it'd be hard to argue this was worth it, in entertainment terms. And the "ticketing" was poorly handled, to say the least.

Posted by pete at 06:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

OzStar Airlines

@ The Gaiety Grande

2:00pm, Mon 13 Mar 2006

The two stewardesses for OzStar airline sure are a versatile pair; not only do they hula-hoop and juggle, they also manage to keep a stack of kids quiet for an entire flight. Now, whilst OzStar might not offer much new - although the juggling act that ended with a fried egg (!) certainly was original - they certainly bring enthusiasm to the table.

The girls maintain the stewardess motif for as long as possible before discarding their (nice) uniforms for something a little more delectable (for the men in the audience, anyway). Thereafter there's more hoop tricks, leading to a pretty impressive finale, with one standing on top of the other whilst hula-hooping away!

Being utterly honest - and I'm pretty sure that the stewardesses will agree with me here - I'm not completely sure that the girls were in complete control during the latter stages of the performance. There's every opportunity of a lawsuit in The Gaiety Grand at some stage; telling the kids in the audience "kids, if you see Tracey getting really big, just act small and fluffy and soft" probably doesn't help much. But, as I said before, the staff behind OzStar are certainly enthusiastic - and we all know that enthusiasm is infectious.

Posted by pete at 11:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Die Roten Punkte

@ The Gaiety Grande

12:00pm, Mon 13 Mar 2006

Ha ha haaaaa, ahaaa ha haaaa.

Fantastic, just fantastic.

Yes, it's a short show, weighing in at a tiny 40 minutes. Yes, they only really had five songs (what with the first three songs being… um… identical). But, dear God, they were fantastic.

"Die Roten Punkte" is German, of course, for "The Red Dots". They are (or rather, claim to be) a brother/sister duo - Otto Rot on guitar, Astrid Rot on drums. And for siblings, they certainly do appear to be… ummm… close.

Hmmmm. That couldn't be a piss-take of The White Stripes, could it?

Naaaaaaaaaaaah.

Anyhoo, their songs - The First/Second/Third Song, "Die Roten Punkte", The Explanation Song (and a delightful cover of The Carpenters' "Close To You") - are performed with all the subtlety of the aforementioned Stripes, but there's a wonderful changeup in Otto's industrial-tinged german electro-pop.

"Close To You" is, of course, used as a dedication to an audience member - and for this performance, the target of the dedication was none other than Pluck's Jon Regan. Pluck, in general, really seemed appreciative of Die Roten Punkte. Me? I loved it. Loved it. More music references than you can poke a stick at, more gut-laughs than you can imagine.

The set-list:

• Song 1
  
• Song 2
  
• Song 3
  
• Dedication
  
• Song 4
  
• Song 5
  
• Song 6
  

And, for the record, I went back and watched their 3:00pm show, too. Brilliant.

Posted by pete at 10:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Rich Hall

Rich Hall @ Nova 2

7:30pm, Sun 12 Mar 2006

This'll be short and sweet: Rich Hall is great. He's much better doing straight stand-up (as opposed to his character-driven stuff, like Otis Lee Crenshaw)… maybe that's why he cancelled his other show, Levelland. And so this was a standard Rich Hall show - you already know what that's like. Apart from the ill-informed Bill Gates rant, the only other thing of note was that the serenade didn't go entirely to plan.

See, Hall likes to grab a couple from the front row and write a sweet (funny) little (funny) ode to them; this time, however, he asked his female mark her name:

"Okie."

Hall's disbelief was palpable. He persevered, though, enquiring as to her boyfriend's name:

"Ernie."

To his credit, Hall didn't double over in comedic pain at this point. He asked for Ernie's occupation:

"I'm a… uh… comedian." (Yes, it's Ernie from Elbowskin)

Needless to say, the serenade didn't go that well. Still bloody funny, though.

It only struck me during this performance that Hall is like an American version of Billy Connolly - same sorts of insights, and (more noticeably) the same style of using "fuck" non-sexually, as punctuation. And believe me, that's in no way intended to be a derogatory comment - just an observation.

Posted by pete at 10:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Rod Quantock's Australia!

Rod Quantock @ Nova 1

6:00pm, Sun 12 Mar 2006

A surreal start to the evening - the ticket guy at the door we rushed towards (we were running late) asked "You seein' Rod Cointreau?" Ironic, really, given one of Rod's new requirements for immigrants be that they can speak properly.

This was a tongue-planted-firmly-in-cheek performance by Quantock; our favourite lefty comedian has decided it's time to get the point across by mocking the "majority", rather than taking the softly-softly approach. And this he does by taking things to their logical extremes; Muslims, the media, and the Bradman sycophants (in other words - The Usual Suspects) come in for some Quantock lovin'. Or rather, not.

I've seen Quantock every Fringe since 1998, and whilst nothing will eclipse the wonderful (drunken) memory of my first encounter with the man, this show marks a return to the Quantock of old after a few lean outings. Cheers, Rod - may you grumpily continue.

Posted by pete at 03:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead

NTS Media @ The Goodwood Institute

2:30pm, Sun 12 Mar 2006

The second play by Tom Stoppard this Fringe (the first being After Magritte), this is certainly the more cerebral of the two. It relies on the audience's knowledge of Hamlet to provide the back-story; it's essentially the flip-side of The Bard's work, promoting bit players Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to leading characters, whilst relegating the principals - Hamlet, Ophelia, Claudius, et al - to the background.

The opening of the piece created high expectations; as the audience seat themselves, the backing screen on-stage features video Rosencrantz and Guildenstern ambling down a pathway, gradually creeping towards the audience. As the screen avatars reach the camera's eye, the characters step through the screen onto the stage - simple, and effective.

We're then treated to the rapid-fire wordplay and punnery seen in After Magritte, and it almost seems as if Shakespeare's work is facilitating a battle of wits between the actors and the audience. There's a constant challenges in the offing - the derivation of the "stark raving sane" Hamlet is a twisting conundrum - but the best lines are often left to The Players (who, they explain, are nothing without an audience): "Is that what people want?" asked Guildenstern; "It's what we do" responded The Player.

The production certainly has some nice touches - the pre-recorded video projected onto the backing screen is well done (again, the opening was ace - and the cast bow was pretty well done, too), though occasionally the associated sound was a little muddled. Acting is enthusiastic at worst, and Ron Hughes' Guildenstern & The Player of Natalie Playford are spot-on. Sets were sparsed, but adequate - the biffo scene on the boat to England was staged with some creativity and a lot of wackiness.

In short, this was an enjoyable production for a humid Sunday afternoon. A completely different reading to Stoppard's own movie adaptation, but none-the-worse for it.

Posted by pete at 02:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

You Asked For It!

Miz Ima Starr @ The Chandelier Room (Freemasons)

11:15pm, Sat 11 Mar 2006

Miz Ima Starr (aka Charles Bracewell) takes to the stage, dress in black with a shock of pink hair. Opening with a dragtastic version of "Waterloo", she proceeds to take requests from the set of 40 songs provided to the audience in a handy playbill. With tattoos visible through her costume, she belts through the songs with a glint in his eye and a smile in her heart.

Tonight's set-list:

• Waterloo
  
• Moon River
  
• The Homecoming Queen's Got A Gun (she wasn't super happy about doing this, but pulled it off with great aplomb… the definite highlight)
  
• Diamond's Are A Girl's Best Friend
  
• I Will Survive
  
• Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
  
• It Must Be Him
  
• Ghost Riders In The Sky
  
• Que Sera Sera

Lounging on the table as she dedicated songs to their selectors, Miz Ima Starr brought a fantastic sense of fun to the evening. Bravo… or is that Brava?

Posted by pete at 01:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Umbilical Brothers - The Rehearsal

The Umbilical Brothers @ Union Hall

9:30pm, Sat 11 Mar 2006

Having seen them on TV a few times, I've always been keen to see The Umbilical Brothers live… however, their seasons at previous Fringes have always been short and/or sold out. Finally, I managed to squeeze in their latest show, which encapsulates the idea that they're rehearsing for a big performance at Football Park.

And, having just typed that sentence, I realise how utterly ludicrous and fragmented a show it really was.

The Football Park bits - a spotlight representing the park, the Umbies walking onto the ground as finger-avatars - were absolute shit. Echoey vocals ensured that any entertainment in these bits remained elusive. Other recurring bits throughout the evening - the monster at the front door, for one - died pretty quickly; the Audience Plant jokes were flat the first time, and recurrences of the Plant were diabolically bad, and had me trying to calculate their cost on the off-chance that a refund was in order.

In fact, the highlight of the show - made all the more spectacular by the dross that surrounded it - involved a video camera and some hand puppets, with seemingly nothing to do with the "rehearsal" premise. Using the depth-of-field of the camera to their advantage, the Umbies performed some brilliant perspective tricks to show them interacting with the puppets and each other… a bit of biffo, chase scenes, it was all fantastic.

But the fact that there were huge flat patches around this 10-minute patch of brilliance leads me to believe that that was the only "content" of the show. So could I have the other 50 minutes back, please? I don't mind paying $3-per-minute for such great content - but don't waste my time with shit.

Posted by pete at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

White Men With Weapons

Greig Coetzee @ Union Hall

7:50pm, Sat 11 Mar 2006

Set around the time that apartheid was abolished in South Africa, when Nelson Mandela was released from prison, White Men With Weapons is Greig Coetzee's one-man-show that manages to cover just about every character in the South African army.

After a profane start - Coetzee's new recruit roaming the stage, swearing constantly to himself about all the trivialities the army expects of him, berating the impractical uniforms ("when in doubt, add another piece of string"), he launches into a plethora of stereotypes - the suicidal soldier. The shouting perfunctory saluting lessons. The violent, racist rapist who doesn't understand the evil he's perpetuating. The isolated gay soldier. The racist corporal, whose life has been spent following orders, now being told that the enemy is now a friend. The staff-sergeant, life ruined by the army, drinking away the pain, memories of Justice the Tracker, memories of the Old South Africa - "just droughts and kaffirs".

To be sure, some characters are off the mark - the chaplain was a bit flat, and the accents of some of the characters rendered them nearly incomprehensible. But the net effect is an overview of the army at this tumultuous time in South African history.

Despite this being yet another one-man, multi-character play in this year's Fringe, this really was a standout. All the more special, really, that this was the 10th anniversary of the first performance of the show… and Coetzee's birthday. Hurrah!

Posted by pete at 11:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

52 Pick Up

theater simple @ Little Theatre

2:00pm, Sat 11 Mar 2006

I love 52 Pick Up, I really do. Ever since I first saw this show in 2002, I've come back again. And again. And again. A few times. Twice in 2002, twice just prior to this years' Fringe (benefit gigs for Urban Myth), and this performance marks the fifth occasion I've had the good fortune to see this randomised relationship unfold before me.

For the uninitiated, a deck of 52 playing cards is shuffled and thrown into the air at the start of the performance. Each card contains a scene from The Relationship; the random order in which they're picked up can affect the mood of the piece. For example, too many of the "heavy" (or sad) cards at the top of the performance can send the audience on a thoughtful trip; start frivolous, and it becomes a comedic performance.

Andrew and Llysa never fail to put in great performances, and it's a secret gift having seen this piece many times - you start to see all the little flourishes, all the little segues between scenes that they improvise, depending on the fall of the cards. And today's cards fell in a pleasing manner - a nice mix of up'n'down, some great sequences (especially leading into "Penny For Your Thoughts"), with the only bummer being the rather morose final card.

Still, it's almost impossible to leave the theatre after having seen 52 Pick Up and not feel utterly invigorated by the experience. Utterly worth seeing… again and again and again.

And I did see it again, at 4:30pm, Wed 15 Mar 2006. Wooh! Six times!

Posted by pete at 10:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Chaplin's Eye

@ Queens Theatre

11:30am, Sat 11 Mar 2006

Initially, this looks a bit lame - a skinny red clown ponces about with a suitcase. She's joined by a lardy green clown and another suitcase. Ponce ponce ponce, yawn. At least Green was enthusiastically bouncy.

The third clown - a nervous orange - joins them, and I'm taking notice. Orange is great, her ticks and twitches causing her to stagger around the stage in a most amusing manner. A fourth clown - this one sky blue - seems much more restrained and expressive - a nice contrast, since Red's gone all flamenco on us. Then Chaplin himself rolls up - he, too, is ace. The four clowns, Chaplin, and a plethora of suitcases all… um… clown about for a bit, before the show is over.

The bow was great - all came back on-stage in character. Orange is awesome.

I stay and have a quick chat with a profusely sweating (hot days and Queens Theatre don't mix) Chaplin - Ira Seidenstein, who also directed Anatomy of Discourse. I ask him how the season's been; he nods earnestly, says "it's been OK", and then admits that he was thinking of cancelling the rest of the season; they weren't getting enough people in to cover the cost of the Theatre (which, from what I've heard, is more than a touch pricey for the performers).

I look around - there was less than a dozen people at this performance. At 11:30am on a hot Saturday.

This show was one fully deserving of that Homer Simpson quote from "Lisa the Vegetarian": it was good, but not great. And $30 for a "not great" clowning show that even kids would get bored in (the start, I mean - the latter parts are good, or at least better) is taking the piss a bit. Especially when most of their season was at night.

It was indeed their last show.

Posted by pete at 11:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Michele A'Court - 40 Odd Years

Michele A'Court @ The Chandelier Room (Freemasons)

9:45pm, Fri 10 Mar 2006

After a great pre-recorded introduction - in stereo! - Michele A'Court takes to the stage. There's all of 11 people in the audience, and the Kiwi thing to do (yes, she's another New Zealander in the Kiwi… uh, Chandelier Room) seems to be audience introductions. So - once, twice around the room, and we all know each other's names. Fabulous.

And so to her act… and it's pretty basic chick-humour - the difference between men & women, childbirth, the usual suspects. She also delves into the other hot comedic topic this Fringe, muslims. And she's got some creative things to say there - such as the liberation she'd feel if she could wear a muslim headdress.

But that's about it. A few giggles to be had on the way, but hardly memorable comedy.

And the name of the show - "40 Odd Years". She's 45. Truth in comedy, and all that.

Posted by pete at 11:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Anatomy of Discourse

Robin Davidson @ UniSA City West (HH3-08)

7:30pm, Fri 10 Mar 2006

This production delivers the final lecture of a university professor, made redundant due to funding cutbacks and the resultant department closures. Of course, this has the effect of also taking aim at government funding rationale, the bureaucracy inherent within the higher education system, and the increasingly career-oriented degrees that universities are finding it necessary to focus on.

Robin Davidson delivers the lecture in a manner more akin to stand-up comedy; he trips from one topic to another, milking the laughs when he can, before doubling back to close off a topic. His character is clearly melancholic on this, his last day of an anonymous career; his dialogue full of regret as he recounts his sexual exploits - first as, then with, students. Now, though, he is alone - and mortality is in the air. In between swigs from his hip-flask, memories of the lasagna and merlot his once-respectable job afforded him, there's plenty of digs at the world of academia - and a level of unrealised misogyny that leaves a slightly bitter taste in the mouth.

There was also a tiny bit of audience participation - which the audience mark took as indication that interruptions throughout the performance were OK. Davidson handled the unwanted "suggestions" well, but they (amusingly) irked the living shit out of the kids sitting in front of me… heh. I could see the Me of a few years ago in their shaken heads and furious glares.

Let's look again at the flyer: "A witty, obscene, absurd, political and poignant glimpse of academia", eh? Check, nup, nup, check, check. That's somewhere on the road to Good Enough.

Posted by pete at 11:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Daniel Kitson

Daniel Kitson @ Nova 1

9:45pm, Thu 9 Mar 2006

I saw Daniel Kitson in 2004 on the recommendation of some UK friends; they were spot on the money, he was simply brilliant. And so, on my birthday - traditionally a day of dubious shows for me - I figured he'd be a lock for a good show. I wasn't disappointed in the slightest; he was in fine, thought-provoking form.

"Thought-provoking?" I hear you cry, the words sounding almost offensive when you associate them with a comedian. Well, yes - as well as poke fun at the stupid things in our world (as per pretty much every other comedian), Kitson also challenges us to question why it's actually funny, and whether it'd be a good idea to change our collective behaviour so that there's no longer anything to laugh at.

At least, that's what I think.

Aside from a snide dig at his performing neighbour Akmal, the obvious targets are there - meat-head male magazines, reality TV shows, The Advertiser Fringe reviews - but the diatribe that connected most with me involved Bands That You Love. In re-telling his experiences at Ben Folds and Lemonheads gigs, Kitson struck a chord that anyone who resents their love becoming populist fodder.

Ace.

Posted by pete at 11:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Angry Young Man

MahWaff Theatre Company @ The Studio (Holden Street)

8:00pm, Thu 9 Mar 2006

"Yuri - a brilliant Eastern European surgeon - arrives in London in search of a new life," reads the flyer for Angry Young Man. Knowing nothing of the country he has entered, he quickly renders himself destitute, before falling in with the wrong crowd, falling for the wrong woman, and an adventure that takes in the English countryside, political intrigue, and the usual suspects in lust/laughter/violence. Not to mention a few digs at English immigration policy.

The entire play is performed - from Yuri's point-of-view - by four actors, all (but one) switching between the lead and supporting roles (or indeed, scenery) as the scene requires. The four players are as synchronised (and pretty) as any boy band; they consort brilliantly to provide wit, visual puns, and drama.

The obvious laugh at the end for "the quiet guy" of the four is well deserved, for he is Ben Woolf, the writer of this clever bit of work. As usual, the great pity is that it will remain largely unknown by the public, such is the relative anonymity of the Holden Street Theatres. A shame, because Angry Young Man deserves a much larger audience.

Posted by pete at 08:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Bizzurk

Troupe dart @ The Arch (Holden Street)

6:15pm, Thu 9 Mar 2006

Quoting verbatim from the director's notes:

Commedia dell'Arte is a form of theatre that dates from the early 1500's in Italy, and subsequently spread across Europe, remaining popular for more than two hundred years.

Commedia uses leather masks, improvisation, stock characters, physical exaggeration, slapsticks, falls and acrobatic moves, music, verbal wit, obscenity and absurdity.

Bizzurk, he goes on to say, leverages the traditions of southern Italian Commedia, revolving around the exploits of layabout Pulcinella and his wife, Donna Zeza. Our performance also included the evil (and gorgeous) Octavia Pantalone and her daughter Elektra, her husband, her lover, and… Death. It's all very silly, it's not always obvious which bits are improv and which are stock, and it's not un-entertaining.

Look - the only word you need to know is "improvisation"; that means that anything I write about my particular show could be completely different for the one you go to. All I can say is this: the actors are all capable, there's huge potential to be had for a giggle, and Octavia is a babe. Easy, really.

Posted by pete at 06:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Edge

Angelica Torn @ The Bosco Theatre

3:00pm, Thu 9 Mar 2006

My prior knowledge of Sylvia Plath's work was limited to the fact that she'd written a short story called "Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams", the title of which inspired one of the more brilliant stars in Tears For Fears' catalogue. For that reason, and that reason alone, her name has always piqued my curiosity; and usually my judgment's pretty good on such trivial connections. So when I spied the précis for Edge - her own story, told on the day she committed suicide - I marked it down as a must-see.

Written from the perspective of Plath on the day of her suicide (but with knowledge of future events), Edge is essentially a tale of the men in her life: her husband, poet Ted Hughes, and her father, who died when she was eight. Her disapproving mother and the trials of her own mental anguish also feature highly, but the first time that Ted is mentioned you can sense the bitterness and hatred and longing that Plath still holds.

Emotionally battered after the death of her domineering and emotionally distant father, Plath's seemingly unflappable exterior masked an internal demolition job. Her inability to deal with failure in her search for perfection led to self-mutilation, suicide attempts and, eventually, psychiatric hospitalisat