Festival Freak

Trouble on Planet Earth

The Border Project @ Fringe Factory Theatre (The Crumpet Theatre)

6:00pm, Fri 14 Mar 2008

There were a couple of Fringe shows this year that benefited from a substantial amount of buzz; The Smile Off Your Face was probably the most notable (and certainly the most deserving), but Trouble on Planet Earth was also lauded in many circles for its innovative audience interactions. Even Llysa told me to catch this performance - though, to her credit, she didn't actually say it was "good", just "interesting".

To squeeze Trouble on Planet Earth into The Schedule, something else had to go; and the ADT's G was given the arse - which was a blessing, in a way. For starters, it was being performed at the ADT's studios at Belair - leaving me with a mere 45 minutes (if things ran to schedule) to get back into the city for Book of Longing. Additionally, nobody I had talked to - and I really do mean nobody - who had seen G had anything positive to say about it; the most generous comments I heard (from a friendly gent I sat next to in Moving Target) indicated that it was horribly underdone, and may - may - be ready for the 2010 Festival. So I didn't exactly give my November-bought ticket away reluctantly - and the "lucky" recipient wasn't exactly gushing praise for G when she returned.

But this entry is not about G - it's about Trouble on Planet Earth. And the buzz (at least, the buzz that I heard) was right - this was very much a Choose Your Own Adventure book performed live, with the audience's hivemind used to choose the next course of action for the performers. (In fact, the name of the piece is shared with an old CYOA book).

This sounds interesting, and the first couple of interactions with the crowd are certainly enjoyable. At the beginning of the performance, every audience member was proffered a smooth, sleek and sealed white wand, of similar size and weight to a Wii Controller. At various stages, a "sexy" interlude is projected onto a video screen, explaining the available options. Each member of the hivemind votes for their desired outcome by rotating the wand until the LEDs ensconced within light up the desired colour; from my position at the back of the crowd, it was pretty cool to be able to watch the sea of wands in front of me switch from red to green to blue and back again as decisions were made - with consultation of one's neighbours, of course. It wouldn't be a hivemind if we acted independently, would it?

But this exposes a massive problem behind this production: whilst the set is lovely, the acting passable (but by no means exemplary) and the fragmented writing somewhat interesting, there were all these decision points, all these interludes, along the way. And whilst the first couple were, as I mentioned above, entertaining in their own way, by the time I'd sat through a handful I was getting pretty irritable. The "sexy" video introduction for each decision point seemed laughably vacuous, the fifteen seconds allocated to "audience decision time" seemed interminable, and the wait for the results - which, for my show at least, were utterly predictable and sadly lowbrow - seemed like torture.

Now - I don't want to seem like I'm completely down on this production; The Border Project have certainly created something a little bit different, and deserve credit for putting this show on. But I also felt that I was paying good money to sit around doing fuck all; at no point did the dialog tree branch off in the direction I wanted it to go (yeah yeah, bitch moan gripe), and the waiting was painful.

It's funny - when I first encountered the web (via CSSIP researcher Matt Roughan in 1993/4), CYOA books were the first thing that sprang to mind - this hypertext linking thing was perfectly suited to this, and it'd be far better to "play" the books in a Web format than risk "peeking" at pages in the story you hadn't played through yet (and much easier to implement than the horrible BASIC version I wrote on the C64 as a young 'un). And maybe it's just the programmer in me, but I really enjoyed the CYOA experience - far more than I enjoyed Trouble on Planet Earth. Because the hivemind, even at 6pm on a Friday evening, is shit. Lured by cheap titillation, each "decision" was utterly predictable - in fact, the only surprise was how much each decision won by.

So I was trapped in a performance with tolerable acting and glossy - but superficial - production. The clean lines of the spacious set, the smooth finish of the controllers, and the AV feedback loop all exuded polish. But it was a production that proffered "choice" where I felt I had none, the story itself was not enough to hold me, and I was jammed in a room with a group of whooping fucktards. Disappointment ahoy.

Posted by pete at 08:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Adam Page Solo

Adam Page @ The Promethean

10:00pm, Thu 13 Mar 2008

An old friend raved to me about Adam Page a couple of years ago, but left no impression of what to expect on this balmy evening. I didn't even know what to expect from the venue - it's been ages since I was last at The Prom, and I knew that it had shut down, changed hands, and re-opened as a more clubby venue. Arriving well early, I wound up chatting with one of The Prom's rejuvenators, Richard, about his ace venue.

It's lush, it really is. Sure, the nifty little VIP-balcony-area was suffering from Adelaide's persistent sweltering weather, but The Prom has turned into a great little venue: decent stage, comfy seating, intimate feel, great bar… and a decent crowd for this, Page's first show of the Fringe.

As mentioned above, I had no idea what to expect from this performance (other than the requisite Adam Page performing, presumably, by himself). But within seconds of the utterly charming Page taking the stage, it was clear I was in for an evening of quirky multi-instrumental experiments.

And it was great.

Using a simple looping sampler, Page conjured catchy tracks using conventional instruments - saxophone, clarinet, occasional vox, and a plethora of percussion - as well as not-so-conventional… the wah-wah-carrot being a prime example. He builds up tracks slowly, adding layer upon layer of substance to the tune, breaking to tweak tracks in and out before dissolving the constituents to a satisfying conclusion. He elicits (keen and willing!) audience help for a monstrously complex multitrack, and caps the gig off with a Latin-influenced closer that was simply heavenly.

But the highlight was undoubtedly the "audience request" bit of the show. Asking for a random variety of styles, Page managed to create a tune which was both enjoyable and able to highlight the suggested influences of Gospel, Reggae and Metal. The guttural vocals, alone, were priceless.

I grinned like a loon for the bulk of this performance; it was simply enjoyable tunes created by a likable larrikin in a wonderful venue with what felt like a bunch of friends, not punters. It really felt like Page was creating on stage out of love and respect for the assembled throng, bereft of ulterior motives. And all that added up to a very happy blogger :)

Posted by pete at 05:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Kommer (Sorrow) (Festival page)

Kassys @ Space Theatre

7:00pm, Thu 13 Mar 2008

An odd one, this.

Kommer starts with the audience staring down at a sombre scene. Without knowing anything about the piece, you can sense it’s a funeral home. It's a wake. Six people gathered in mourning. Movements are slow, contemplative; there's a solemnity about proceedings that slowly begins to shatter as the characters begin to interact. Initially there's a sense of complicit duty, of keeping-up-appearances; but, gradually, the ice breaks. Ludicrous actions relieves the audiences' tension, but maintains it onstage: A fight over the CD player. The pecking order of commiserations. A ludicrous topiary demolition of the funeral home's plant life. And then, one by one, the characters drift offstage.

The audience is left looking at the messy remains of the funeral home, dirt and plant fragments strewn everywhere. And then a movie screen descends from the roof, and we're treated to (pre-recorded, not live) expressions of the actors back-stage. They celebrate another successful performance on-screen and, as they leave for the evening, they pass through The Space once again, past the audience; the transitions between screen and real-life are tightly managed, and work a treat - the illusion is wonderful.

We then follow, on-screen, each of the actors into their lives outside the theatre - one woman loathes her second job. Another is afraid of her age. One man returns home to his one-room flat to joylessly eat his processed food. One man gets mugged. Another lives out his midlife crisis. They're all terribly, terribly lonely, each painting a tragic tale of… sorrow.

And that's the real payoff from this performance; it's not in the off-beat presentation, it's not in the quirky performances. It's in the painful, tortuous lives that these people lead, laid forth bare on the screen. Even the gorgeous Esther Snelder, once the on-stage performance is over, leads a heart-breaking life on-screen. Yes, there's humour in amongst these grim depictions, but it's overwhelmed by a feeling of grim… mortality, in a way.

Now, some people may be put off by the miserably depressing tone of the piece… not me. I revel in this stuff: it's immediately identifiable and perversely uplifting. Wallowing in another's misery is almost cathartic to me - which says a lot, really. And Kommer delivered the muted, everyday, sorrow of existence in spades, reminding everyone of the pain of simply being, and presenting the opportunity to compare and contrast with one's own life. Hey, I felt uplifted as a result, though I know many who weren't.

Sadly, one of the lingering memories I have regarding Kommer is some of the crap that was written about it in the 'Tiser. It wasn't deriding the performance - heavens, no, we couldn't possibly do that; it was a statement like "they break down the fourth wall by building a fifth" (paraphrased). I think that's a completely bullshit statement, a hopelessly inaccurate attempt at a clever turn of phrase. And yet, that's the thing that will stay with me long after the memory of sweet Esther has faded, and long after the shared commiserations have been forgotten.

Posted by pete at 08:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

A Record or an OBE (FringeTIX)

Shaolin Punk @ Fringe Factory Theatre (The Fridge)

6:00pm, Thu 13 Mar 2008

On another stinking hot day, I arrive at The Fridge to find that - despite its frostily suggestive name - it's a sweltering hotbox. And that I'm one of six people in the audience.

Now, two of those were Fringe volunteer ring-ins, two guys were from Sound & Fury and there was another artist in there, so I'm guessing I was the only paying punter.

The Only Paying Punter.

Which is utterly heartbreaking, because this is a decent show. When the lights come up, we're looking at Graeme Garden & Tim Brooke-Taylor - the two remaining members of The Goodies after Bill Oddie left the troupe (at the height of their popularity, no less) to pursue a career in music. Tim is adamant that the two of them can sustain The Goodies on their own; Graeme, the hen-pecked writer of much of their work, is far less confident.

Tim's attitude towards Bill verges on the militant; Graeme is far less perturbed, but obviously misses his writing partner. The conflicting feelings come across in a convincing manner throughout; Tim belligerently spurs Graeme on, eventually to a nervous breakdown, and their resolution is genuinely touching.

It's far from a faithful rendition of the two Goodies - writer Ben McKenzie's Garden is pretty good, but Rob Lloyd (from The Hound of the Baskervilles) is initially less convincing as Brooke-Taylor: suitably brash, sure, but not weedy enough, not British enough. Remarkably, though, they somehow manage to transcend this barrier to believability; the half-time "Get It Right!" skit certainly helps.

The great thing about A Record or an OBE is that it's tightly written, and doesn't outstay its welcome - at a svelte 30 minutes long, it's a lovely bit of off-beat Fringery that was criminally under-attended this evening.

Posted by pete at 09:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

OK. So, I know we've just hit June, and I've posted nothing since March.

And that's, like, bad.

Because I've got twelve shows to post, along with details of my Visual Arts marathon, topped off with the Year In Review.

And, at my current rate (of precisely none posts per week) it'll take - quite literally - forever to finish the year off.

And that'd be, like, really really bad.

So I'll try to up the rate a bit. Just a smidge. Try to grind out a post-or-two a week. Or fortnight.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Posted by pete at 08:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Die Roten Punkte - Super Musikant (FringeTIX)

Die Roten Punkte @ Bosco Theatre

11:00pm, Wed 12 Mar 2008

A mite bit disappointing, this.

Astrid and Otto Rot are back, with a (mostly) new batch of songs. And, whilst I loved their previous show (I'd seen it 1, 2, 3 times!), this one was somewhat lacking.

Their trademark mock german-isms were intact. All their stage mannerisms - including Astrid's little cymbal-nut flicks - are still there. The tiny glockenspiel, drumkits and guitars are still there. In fact, the only thing missing are the awesome, chant-along songs from the first show.

And this, it turns out, is a bad thing.

Their replacement is a lightweight story about Astrid's visit to rehab… er, a holiday. Otto's more straight-edged than ever, and is eager to keep his "sister" off the booze. The new songs are amusing enough, but that's about it - only amusing, they're not the kind of tracks to get you singing and clapping and stomping along. "Best Band In The World" only makes an appearance at the end of the show, which is a real shame.

It's not that the new songs are bad - it's just that they're not great, and completely lack the simple naïve charm of the early tracks. I still had fun at this show, but nowhere near as much as I've had in the past.

Posted by pete at 06:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Follow Me (FringeTIX)

Beth Fitzgerald & Ross Gurney-Randall @ Fringe Factory Theatre (The Pastry Bakery)

9:00pm, Wed 12 Mar 2008

Cor, fuck me. This was bloody brilliant.

Ruth Ellis, the last woman to be executed in the UK, sits quietly at a table as we file into the theatre. She looks very refined, proper. Beautiful. The audience in place, she launches into the most quoted line of her trial: "It's obvious when I shot him I intended to kill him."

And so starts this play, which alternates between the reactions of Ellis on death row, and the musings of her executioner, Albert Peirrepoint. Pierrepoint addresses the audience with the kind - but firm - voice of experience as if they were an apprentice. You can hear the professional pride in his voice - but, as the noises of protesters reach his ears and, more importantly, the trap-door test is inappropriately performed, you can sense the waver in his moral resolve.

As the performance progresses, we alternate between Ellis (revealing more and more about her crime, and her interactions with the prison staff) and Pierrepoint (backfilling his character with tales of previous executions). As the alloted time for the execution draws close, both characters become frayed; Ellis' cool exterior cracks with a final grasp for life, Pierrepoint's anger at the inappropriate treatment of Ellis.

Beth Fitzgerald is nothing less than stunning as Ellis; it's one of the best performances of the year for me. Ross Gurney-Randall, whilst not reaching the same levels of brilliance as Fitzgerald, puts in a solid performance of a man on the edge, a man proud of what he's done - but also beginning to question it, too. Masterson's direction is the refined exercise in minimalism that we're getting used to; stellar, nonetheless. In fact, the only fault I can find is with the ending; we're so pre-conditioned to starting the applause when the lights drop to black that we miss the inevitable clunk-and-dangle.

But that's a minor quibble. This is one of the picks of the Fringe for me; brilliant, compelling theatre.

Posted by pete at 06:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

A Slip Of A Boy (FringeTIX)

Pygmalion Theatre @ Fringe Factory Theatre (The Tea Room)

7:30pm, Wed 12 Mar 2008

This show demonstrates why we need the Fringe. Because theatre like this would never receive mainstream acceptance.

Our boy is a pining and lonely chap. Desperate for love and acceptance, he - in indirect and flowery language - decides to create the girl of his dreams. Great plan, eh guys? Well, the results are very Goldilocks-y; the first of his creations is far too similar to the boy, so the girl doesn't love him - for he doesn't love himself. The second girl smothers him with love, but the third girl - the "just right" girl - is willing to wait, willing to learn who the boy is - and love him over time.

The boy is loud, bold, almost overacting bad-Shakespeare-stylee with his wafty language. The girl(s), on the other hand, is more perfunctory with her speech. Direction is ace, with the couple roaming the stage well before settling in a spotlight for key moments, though I don't envy them their costumes on this stinking hot day. And there was some nice industrial ambient noises underpinning the work.

It's a short piece - maybe only forty minutes - and, like I said, it's definitely got the oddball-Fringe feel to it. Worth a peek if you've got a gap in the schedule, and don't mind the lack of subtlety in the dialog.

Posted by pete at 11:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Ballad of Roger and Grace (FringeTIX)

Daniel Kitson & Gavin Osborn @ Bosco Theatre

3:30pm, Wed 12 Mar 2008

It's a completely bizarre non-opening; the house lights drop, the crowd murmurs cease. A minute of silence passes, maybe two, the stage empty save for two chairs and two microphones. There's a rustling behind the curtain, then Kitson's head suddenly appears through the plush redness. Just his head, bewildered and bemused, like it's disembodied and levitating. "Wot's going on?" he asks, as we all sit bemused by this "wacky" start to the show: "Have you dropped the lights, then?" It soon becomes apparent, though, that this isn't a faux-opening and, after a bit more bumbling about, Kitson and Osborn take to the stage with an almost extravagant lack-of-fuss.

The Ballad of Roger and Grace is two tales, one told through prose (Kitson, reading from a book), the other through song (Gavin Osborn, who also plays guitar). The tales are related by the common character Charlie, whose presence in prose is almost one of a spectator, but in song he comes to the fore - ridiculed, longing, loved, then spurned. The two threads work really well in parallel, and the prose / song pairs are really well paced.

I've mentioned before how much I love Kitson's writing; he's got a truly wonderful way with words, and I actually far preferred this presentation to any of his stand-up stuff. Osborn's songs were great, utterly wrenching in parts, but Kitson's witty, touching, and sometime absurd writing made this an absolute standout for me.

Posted by pete at 11:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Mike Sheer is Free (FringeTIX)

Mike Sheer @ Bull and Bear Bar & Restaurant (Dining Room)

10:00pm, Tue 11 Mar 2008

A tough one, this.

Mike Sheer is a genuinely lovely chap. Hailing from Canada, the 27-year-old is doing it tough down here, with venue "issues" (no need for slander slapsuits here) a-plenty. He's great to chat with, and has a lovely demeanor.

The problem is, his show's not really that good. But let's attach a caveat to that.

The crowd of ten that wandered in to see Sheer this evening were, to be frank, awful. They gave the man nothing to work with; no energy whatsoever, and fewer laughs and claps. I tried, I really tried, but their stony responsiveness - or lack thereof - ground me down. Worst of all was the fact that there were other comedians in the crowd; you'd expect that they, at least, would try to help out a colleague in need. But no - Jess McKenzie was as stony-faced as the rest of them, even leaving the show halfway through the act to go on a bar run. To her credit, she at least bought Sheer a drink.

Sheer tries to base his show around the idea of Freedom (as in speech, not beer, for all you geeks out there - though I imagine that, of my three readers, geeks make up 0% of them) in the First World - and the four things that we typically use to obtain a semblance of Freedom: money, drugs, sex, and… christ, I've forgotten the last one. Was it travel? I honestly can't remember. As a central thread for the show, it's a reasonable idea, but the stories that spiral out from there are rather soft… that is, they'd be really enjoyable with a giggling crowd, but with the Easter Island statues?

It's terribly heartbreaking for me, watching a likeable comedian plead for a response from a crowd. But then I try to take the emotion out of it, and ascertain that the material isn't really that good. But it may still have been a good gig, with the right crowd, and Sheer is a tryer…

Ugh. Like I said, a tough one.

Posted by pete at 10:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Sacred Monsters (Festival page)

Akram Khan & Sylvie Guillem @ Festival Theatre

8:00pm, Tue 11 Mar 2008

Without knowing any of the specifics, it'd be pretty reasonable to suggest that there's been a bit of expectation leading up to Sacred Monsters; more cynical mouths might have called it hype. My first glimpse of this was at the Festival Launch last year, when the very mention of the piece brought forth many cheers and woots from the usually reserved audience. The second hint that this was highly anticipated was when booking my tickets - despite the Friends privileged booking window, the centre of Row L - L! - was the best I could manage. The third hint? Everyone I talked to at Festival shows was waxing lyrically in advance; even some Fringe-goers were giddy with the thought of seeing Khan and, most particularly, Guillem.

The first thing I noticed when the lights dropped was the singer, the band. I've yet to see a Festival show this year where the music was less than stunning, and this was no exception. Mostly Eastern in feel, with gorgeous oscillating intensities, the five musicians provided perfect backing to Khan and Guillem's movements.

Each dancer had their own solo piece(s), and during these it was their control on display. When they danced together, however, it was strength and finesse that took centre stage; Guillem wrapping her legs around Khan's torso in the piece that provided most of the promotional material for the performance, a stunning piece worth every cent of the price of admission.

In between pieces, there was some surprising humour; seemingly offhand back-and-forth chit chat, with some brilliant set pieces: Guillem raving about Christmas Trees for a minute, before Khan deadpans back to her "Sylvie, I was raised Muslim; I know nothing of Christmas Trees."

But the takeaway, for me, was Guillem's famed flexibility. More than any circus performer I've every seen, her poise and balance was incredible - with her leg extended, her foot far above her head, she stood still with nary a waver.

Khan was responsible for most of the choreography in the piece, and - quite frankly - it was stunning. If it weren't for one of Sylvie's solos that had me dozing off a little, I'd have joined everyone else in the first dozen rows in the standing ovation. As it was, this was "only" the most impressive bit of classically-influenced dance since Drumming - and, as per usual, my words have no hope of doing it justice.

Oh yes, this most definitely lived up to the hype.

Posted by pete at 12:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Asher Treleaven, Cellar Door (FringeTIX)

Asher Treleaven @ Bosco Theatre

6:30pm, Tue 11 Mar 2008

Having had Asher Treleaven emcee two previous shows (both last year and this), I knew pretty much what to expect from this show: and pretty much got exactly that. The choose-your-Top Gun-tune opening, the corny book readings, the quirky and appealing style.

The problem was that there was very little there I hadn't seen before. It was too similar to previous showings. In fact, the only new material I can remember was the story of his bizarre eisteddfod consulting work - complete with a mirthsome (then tiresome) Space Invaders dance which went on way too long. Sadly, no blockhead activities eventuated though - a shame, as they might have spiced up the show somewhat.

And that's about all there is to say. If you've seen Treleaven before, it's a hard one to recommend - you're unlikely to see anything new. But if you're an Asher neophyte, go ahead - he's a likable oddball who'll easily win you over.

Posted by pete at 02:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Daniel Kitson - the impotent fury of the privileged (FringeTIX)

Daniel Kitson @ Royalty Theatre

9:00pm, Mon 10 Mar 2008

Daniel Kitson is one of my favourite modern comedians, because he comes across as a thinking man's comedian. His way with words borders on the sublime - after all, this evening he used the phrase "accoutrements of malevolence" - and his experiential tales are often equal parts touching, funny, and worthy of further contemplation.

But I walked away from tonight's performance a little disappointed, and I can't nail down why. Because Kitson himself performed in exactly the same manner as in 2004 and 2006, though with maybe a little more introspection and a more detached - and sad - view of the world. And he stopped his act mid-sentence to kindly ask Matt Byrne (my newly-adopted nemesis) to stop taking notes in the front row, which pleased me no end.

But something still irked me… and, reading back over my 2006 notes, maybe it was the fact that there was a Royalty Theatre packed to the brim with people who were gleaning more laughs than I. Maybe my dissatisfaction came from the fact that all these pricks were horning in on my comedian.

Or maybe it's because Kitson's message is admirable - though long-winded, and much better summarised in one of his many sidetracks: "do better because you know better." I'm 100% behind him; I try to care for, show compassion for my fellow man when I can, and it hurts me when those I love fail to do so, fail to consider the (immediate, local) ramifications of their actions upon those around them.

So that's nice.

But I walked away with a tinge of sadness, knowing that 99% of the 500+ people at The Royalty this night left thinking that they'd been spiritually uplifted, and had a laugh too. And they'll have forgotten the message tomorrow, and continue being their selfish shitty selves. Ah well. I suppose, as is usually stated regarding such things, if only one person is changed as a result of this show, then it's still made a difference. It's the pessimist in me that wants - no, demands - that number be larger.

Or maybe Kitson is still just as brilliant as ever, but my headspace is all fucked up. Aaaaah - now we're getting somewhere.

Posted by pete at 02:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Age of Consent (FringeTIX)

Bareboards Productions @ The Bakehouse Theatre

7:00pm, Mon 10 Mar 2008

I'm sitting here wondering what to write for this performance. It's nearly three days since I saw it in a steamy Bakehouse Theatre and, whilst I know the gist of what I want to write, I don't really have a lot to work with.

So I open the programme, which I'd only glanced at on the night. I'd seen the usual director & performer bios, but I'd missed the article by playwright Peter Morris - originally published in The Guardian in 2001 - addressing the uproar surrounding The Age of Consent.

You see, The Age of Consent is two interspersed monologues - one by a domineering and aspiring mother of a six-year-old "actress", the other an 18-year-old murderer just about to be released from prison. The latter character was inspired by the murderers of James Bulger - and from there came the controversy, with Bulger's mother labeling the play "pathetic and sick" (despite not having seen it, and mistakenly assuming it was a comedy).

Whilst there are some elements of humour present, Consent is most definitely not a comedy. The male murderer character is genuinely remorseful - though not always for the right reasons - and hopelessly confused; yes, he knows he's done wrong, but is completely at a loss as to why. The female character is blinded by stars, unable to see what she's doing to her daughter, unable to see the danger she's putting her daughter in.

And that's the unifying thread of The Age of Consent - the fact that society is allowing this mistreatment of children (in the guise of "for their own good") to happen, in some cases encouraging it. The problem is that, even though the two performers are fine and the direction frugally competent, it's just not a very compelling play. To be honest, I found reading the article in the programme to be better value; Morris explains his reasons for writing the way he does, and has some genuinely interesting comments on the anonymity afforded to the playwright and on Fringe writing.

But as for the play itself? Great premise, great message, dull outcome. And that's all I really had to say.

Posted by pete at 01:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Glass: A Portrait of Philip in Twelve Parts (Festival page)

@ Piccadilly Cinema

11:00am, Mon 10 Mar 2008

I know dick-all about Philip Glass, which could possibly be deemed bad given the high profile of the upcoming Book of Longing. I mean yes, I know he's a minimalist composer, and did the score for all those slideshow movies with the unpronounceable names that are held in ultra-high regard by film aesthetes, and that South Park took the piss out of him one episode. But outside that… nothing.

So a doco about the man? Could come in handy, that. And it's quite possibly the easiest-to-get-to show for me… ever. The main cinema at the Piccadilly is packed - this event is sold out. It's also my favourite screen in Adelaide at the moment, though I reckon its life is limited (with the obscene plans for the old Le Cornu site in North Adelaide - but that's another, much grumpier, story). Surprisingly, Scott Hicks appears just prior to the film starting to give a big thank-you to all in attendance, and to talk about the financing of the movie - when funding for the movie finally eventuated, it didn't come from international sources: it came from private investors in Adelaide. Which is nice.

The movie itself is broken - very overtly - into the requisite twelve parts, and is quite grainy in parts - Hicks did much of the camera work himself using a small digital camera. The surprising thing is the amount of humour in the film - Glass (and many of his collaborators) come across as very funny people… Glass himself tells the knock-knock joke. Even his family get in on the act; Glass' sister makes some devilish swipes at "The Wives".

Whilst the film contains a lot of archival photos & footage, it often sits and focuses on the "now": which was when Glass was scoring Waiting For The Barbarians. This has the unfortunate effect of making the film, at times, feel more like a puff-piece for the opera, than a documentary of Glass' life; of course it's understandable that the movie should feature prominently - it was a major part of his life at the time - but it detracted, all the same.

Various snippets of Glass' work is used to back the film throughout, and it's thoroughly enjoyable. But for me, the highlight came when an interview with current wife Holly gets a little emotional. Holly tears up whilst talking of their diverging paths through life, and you feel the end of their relationship is near - only to be interrupted by Glass asking for her computer password. She wipes the tears away before turning to inform him of the password, then turns back to camera, dropping back into the morose mood… but suddenly she's defending herself, leaping away from the hurt by laughing "now you all know my password!" It's a standout human moment in a film that manages to create very human picture of all involved.

Posted by pete at 01:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Acrobat - Smaller, Poorer, Cheaper (FringeTIX)

Acrobat @ The Garden of Unearthly Delights (Acrobat Venue)

8:30pm, Sun 9 Mar 2008

Just reading back on Acrobat's act from 2002, I really gave them a rave. And, if anything, their show has got even more rave-worthy since.

They're not in the Umbrella Revolution anymore, opting instead for a rather lower-rent custom outdoor venue. And, when Garden staff announce before the show "Just a little warning… this performance does contain nudity", heed that warning - because the next person you see will be a stark naked woman.

In fact, clothing doesn't make an appearance until about 10 minutes into the act… and then, only fleetingly. Jo Lancaster is a ridiculously good tumbler and her strength belies her scrawny appearance. Mozes does his naked hanky-hiding antics - still as deliriously funny as every - and some fantastic trapeze work. There's also a gorgeous routine with a red rope… oh wait, that's blood dripping down… ummm… wow… Simon Yates is the only performer that works with a semblance of clothed modesty, performing his "life on a tightrope" routine and some incredible flips.

All the acts are very self-contained - after all, each performer is responsible for their own twenty-minute solo act (though there's some wonderfully avant atonal live musical accompaniment). And, despite the familiarity to the previous Acrobat show (the only really new piece I can remember was Mozes' roller-skating antics), it's actually improved over the original performance.

It all feels so fresh and - as I remarked six years ago - so real. You're up close and very personal with this raw, uncompromising, and extremely talented group. It's astounding reading about the trials of the Acrobat crew since we last saw them, but none of that matters now - because they're here, they're in your face, and they're brilliant.

Watching Mozes' extended nude performance (including a bizarre aerial trick where he spun around a rope horizontally, genitals a-dangling), he finally donned some pants - presumably to keep his tackle safe during the next trick. "Thank god for that," muttered the teenaged boy in front of me. Funny!

Posted by pete at 11:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Wearing Away Our Lips (FringeTIX)

Playground @ Viva Function Centre

7:00pm, Sun 9 Mar 2008

A tough one, this. After the strength of the dance piece in last year's [interrobang], I wanted to love - nay, adore - this piece so much; unfortunately, hindsight lets me find more flaws than I would like.

Inasmuch as I can interpret contemporary dance, Wearing Away Our Lips deals with the girl's night out - from the self-conscious preening, through the frantic dancing, to the morning-after full of regret. I'm pretty certain of that. What I am uncertain of, however, is the quality of the dance therein - and the direction of the piece itself.

First problem: the venue. The Viva provides a great raised stage and a large dance-floor; but the audience surrounds the dance-floor, with very few optimal seating positions. With supporting columns bordering the space, most present would have had obstructed views; an inspired move would have been to plonk the audience on the stage, looking down onto the dancers.

Second problem: the direction. There's a lovely bit of backlit shadow-screening that bookends the performance, but for half the audience this would have been nigh-on unviewable - either because of obstructed view or angle relative to the screen. Likewise, a fair bit of the dance took place low to the ground - crouches, rolls - and would have made difficult viewing for those not on the very edge of the arena.

Third problem: there's a five minute pre-recorded video piece half-way through the performance. It was, in a word, awful. I reckon I know what they were aiming for, and I certainly don't begrudge them a rest during the show, but the video felt horribly amateurish.

As I said before, I really wanted to love this. I very, very much enjoyed the girls' work last year, but there was just too much wrong with this piece. Their dance in [interrobang] worked because it was a very time-constrained piece in a very space-constrained venue; here, neither of those constraints applied, and the performance sadly suffered for it (though I enjoyed it far, far more than my companion did - she was scathing). Kate and the gang are still on The List - I reckon they've still got a good eye for the bigger picture, and a lot of the physical movement was lovely - but with a little more reserved consideration now.

Posted by pete at 01:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ollie and the Minotaur (FringeTIX)

floogle @ one forty five

5:00pm, Sun 9 Mar 2008

Ollie and the Minotaur has a massive buzz around it; it seems to be a darling of critics and crowds alike, and I've yet to hear a less-than-exemplary word said about it. But I walk into the theatre at one forty five not knowing anything about the story; and I was very surprised to find that it's simply three girls talking in a lounge.

There's obviously more to it than that - emotional trauma galore, with some twists and turns and plenty of angst and tears. But, without giving the plot away, that's about all there is to it.

And that all sounds pretty dismissive. It's not supposed to be; I really, really enjoyed Ollie and the Minotaur. It's fantastically tight writing, and all three actresses are superb - Thea (Wendy Bos) was gorgeously smug for the most part, Carla (Adriana Bonaccurso) provided huge grins with her variations in mood and volume, and Sarah Brokensha's Bec - who I initially thought was the weakest of the three - wound up being the most memorable.

But…

The twist, the revelation, turns things a bit too quickly for me. In the context of the rest of the performance, I didn't think the character's responses were realistic, were believable. Let me, for the purposes of future reference, be quite explicit: Thea turns on Bec way too quickly. That she would do so to her best friend is undeniable, given the details of the reveal; but the speed with which it happened just didn't feel Real to me.

This troubled me because - as previously mentioned - I thought the rest of Ollie and the Minotaur was excellent; still, it was already running well into arse-numbing time on a hot Sunday afternoon. But that one little factoid really made me wonder what all the fuss was about, what all the raving was about; yes, Ollie was great, but it wasn't that great.

Posted by pete at 01:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Playing Burton (FringeTIX)

Josh Richards @ Holden Street Theatres (The Arch)

2:00pm, Sun 9 Mar 2008

It's a hot day. Stinking hot. It's also my birthday! Yay. And, as usual for my birthday, I've carefully selected a bunch of shows that I reckon will be winners from beginning to end. Now, this rarely - and by "rarely", I mean "never" - works out well; there was one particularly solemn year where most of my "choice" selections were shit-on-a-stick, with the finale being one of the most embarrassing shows I've been witness to. But every year, I hope for more; every year, I'm convinced I've got it right.

If anything, I figured that Playing Burton was the weak link in this year's lineup; how wrong - how very wrong I was.

So - hot day. We're in The Arch at Holden Street - I suspect that's because Richards (who, as the title suggests, is playing Richard Burton) chain-smokes his way through the performance. But The Fear that The Arch will be sweltering is short-lived - it's lovely inside, and the puny air conditioner does a great job until it starts relentlessly dripping onto the floor during a quiet passage. The stage is empty, save for a chair and small table with a bottle of vodka, a glass, and an ashtray. The lights dim, and a recording of the news announcement regarding Burton's death is played.

Richards appears, and he is Burton, coolly listening to his own radio obit. And when he speaks, beginning the tale of his life, he commands respect with a forceful punch. And his tale is wonderfully engaging, and beautifully told - it's all in the contrast of his voice, from that low growl to a room-bloating boom. Time is marked by his demolition of the vodka, which disappears at an exponential rate.

The last ten minutes or so are riveting - speech becomes slurred, movements imprecise. You know the end is near when he falls over, drunk, and only regains his feet after a long pause. Further movements are timid, except where the bottle is concerned.

Now, I'm no Burton aficionado, but I'll be buggered if he wasn't in that theatre. Richards is magic in this production, with a massive presence in this small theatre, and utterly convincing. Far from being the weak link of the day, Playing Burton was a major highlight.

Posted by pete at 05:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Laurence Clark - 12% Evil (FringeTIX)

Laurence Clark @ Fowler's Live

9:30pm, Sat 8 Mar 2008

It'd be easy to argue that Laurence Clark is a one-trick pony, relying on his cerebral palsy to garner a sympathetic response to a sub-standard comedy routine; but, luckily for the audience, that's not actually the case. Yes, Clark's palsy does make it difficult to initially understand him - but after a few minutes, just like a strong accent, you've adjusted to his speech patterns and can freely absorb his comedy.

And he's definitely got a good eye for comedy. Sure, it's easy for him to poke fun at the disabled - and, in fact, the best parts of his act leverage that. The first big laugh comes when he plays video of his bungee jumping escapades: "go on, admit it - you just loved seeing a spastic get pushed off a bridge." Highlighting the preconceptions of people by begging for mortgage payments and puppy killing was also good value.

Clark's PowerPoint skills are great, his video support quality. He's obviously aware of his limitations and works well within them (though I have to admit that his air-quotes cracked me up… that's probably not very PC). Clearly his act is heavily affected by other "cripples" - he seems to hate Heather Mills-McCartney with a passion - and he rounds out his act by showing a bunch of personal ads from Disability Now magazine. But he does well to dispel a few myths, and is genuinely funny - though the laughs-per-minute are down from other motor-mouthed comedians, he still delivers a quality experience. Bravo, sir.

Posted by pete at 12:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Age I'm In (Festival page)

Force Majeure @ Dunstan Playhouse

8:00pm, Sat 8 Mar 2008

This was great. Simple as that.

Now, I could post this blog entry off and be done with it, moving on to the next show in the queue, but I'd feel guilty about it later on and - worse - have committed to the aether a bunch of words that in no way allow me to reconstruct the performance in my head. So I shall, in my own inimitable way, elaborate.

The Age I'm In seems to address the issues of identity with respect to age. Using ten performers aged from early-teens to well-grayed, and using audio snippets from interviews of people aged 9 to 83, we're treated to a cross-discipline display that sees the performers miming to dialog one minute, dancing the next, and manipulating video screens the next.

There's contemporary dance for the young 'uns. There's ballroom dance for the oldies. There's intimate and tender physical interactions for everyone. There's moments of humour when the youngest girl mimes the vocal delivery of the oldest man… and vice versa. The hand-held video screens are fantastic - pre-recorded video plays whilst the performers move the screens by hand over other performers, creating a perverse x-ray-like effect. Naked bodies beneath clothes, emotions exposed.

Performances are ace - from the confidence of the youngest girl, to the refined restricted movements of the oldest man, everything feels personal and honest and… correct. Their miming to pre-recorded voices is almost flawless, and - humour aside - utterly believable. And the direction is stunning… there's one scene where three women track up and down each other's bodies with the video screens, exposing their naked beauty, whilst the audio imparts a feeling of fragility. Over the other side of the stage sits the youngest girl, watching the other women with a mixture of interest and trepidation.

And the ending - magnificent. The eldest of the cast, spotlight front-and-centre. A light, misting rain creates a sheet at the front of the stage… the rest of the cast join him, and you get the feeling it's a cleansing ritual. Utterly moving, it perfectly capped off a wonderful show; whilst it's not the deepest piece of dance or theatre, it is a glorious marriage of both - with a nice bit of technology wedged in. Compelling stuff, indeed.

Posted by pete at 11:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Bird Lantern Lab (FringeTIX)

Bird Lantern @ The Jade Monkey

5:30pm, Sat 8 Mar 2008

Bird Lantern - local lads Al Thumm and Greig Thomson - perform live electronic soundscapes and explorations. Using a variety of samplers, computers, guitars & percussion bits, they produced a one-hour journey that covered a metric truckload of musical ground. The beat is a bit too much to the fore for it to be considered "ambient" - but experimental is a pretty good description. "Bloody polished" is also appropriate; a lot of the stuff they were producing live onstage would sound perfect coming from your CD player.

Emerging out of a whale-song of an opening comes a rhythmically complex piece that is, at once, both beautiful and unsettling. And out of that, via some drones and a lot of knob-twiddling before the beat kicks in, comes what sounds like some classical samples. Everything is treated - when the singer sings, his voice is accompanied by the tweets of a hundred chirpy birds, guitars sound like they're underwater and being played in a large mammal's gut… nothing sounds as it should (except the bass drum and cymbals which only get occasional attention).

But that's fine. It's all about the co-existence of noise, that which we deem music. And these chaps have an ear for a beat and the ability to layer rhythms a-plenty over the top; simple tracks these are not. From the gentlest pieces to the caustic and over-driven segments, it's all good. Transitions between songs are often glorious - it'd be a masterful act of DJ-ing, if it were indeed DJ-ed. But it's not, it's being produced live - and it's fucking great.

I'd like to say that the "live visuals synchronized with the music" were decent but, alas, they were not. In fact, they looked like they were being generated by WinAmp on a 10-year-old PC - jerky and unappealing. And they might have been synchronised with some music, but it wasn't the stuff I was hearing. Boo.

(This is the first blog entry I've ever written during the actual performance. It's bloody brilliant writing like that! :)

Posted by pete at 10:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Murder in the Cathedral (FringeTIX)

The Therry Dramatic Society @ St Francis Xavier's Cathedral

2:00pm, Sat 8 Mar 2008

Inside the stone environs of St Xavier's cathedral, it's still pretty warm… yes, the stone has kept the temperature down (compared to outside), but there's little-to-no air movement. The sell-out crowd (they allocated tickets to cover the central section of the cathedral) have spread out to the wings; that's where I'm positioned, too. It's certainly less sweat-inducing, but as a consequence I (and many others) spend a great deal of the performance sliding along the pews trying to get a glimpse of the action between the cathedral's supporting columns.

It's a very straightforward presentation - it seems like, after the masterstroke of hosting the performance in the cathedral, all directoral ambition went out the window. It's all front-of-stage, eyes-forward… uninspired. There's a few non-traditional entrances, using the many facilities of the cathedral, but other than that it's a very traditional presentation. Costumes are competent, and it's a very faithful adaptation of TS Eliot's play.

And that's a problem. After initially making mental notes that Act I felt too long, then noting that Act II also felt too long, I dug out my beloved Complete Poems and Plays to check the original play… only to discover (and I say this as a massive TS Eliot poetry fan) that Thomas Stearns just plain fucked up with this play. Especially the ending; just when you think the performance is over, out trots the cast in their groups to deliver their soliloquies… the audience delivers a premature applause once, then linger so long at the true end-of-show applause that the cast don't bother showing their faces (or maybe it's because it was stinking hot in the church).

To be fair, few other playwrights possess the beautiful perfunctory end-of-scene flourishes of Shakespeare… but surely Eliot could have done better! After all, there's a lovely rhythm to the spiels of The Tempters - the Fourth Tempter, in particular, was fantastic with his goads to martyrdom.

In terms of cast, "solid" is an appropriate description; the only one to have me checking the programme was Joanna Patrick in the chorus… I get the feeling that she's destined for greater things. Other than that, though, this felt pretty pedestrian, and served only to bring my attention to the fact that TS Eliot is not in the same league as a playwright as he is a poet.

Posted by pete at 10:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Moving Target (Festival page)

Malthouse Theatre @ Odeon Theatre

7:30pm, Fri 7 Mar 2008

I guess that I'm stepping outside my comfort zone a bit lately, because I find myself wanting to write the words "I didn't have the faintest idea what this was about… liked it, though." A lot.

Now, I don't mind being completely bewildered by a performance - as demonstrated by Conclusions: On Ice. It gives me something to think about, something to mull on during the walk home. Shows like that sit at the back of my subconscious for days, occasionally popping forth in an "aha!" moment… and sometimes not showing up at all, just remaining in a ruminative state, something for the neurons to fire on while I'm doing something else.

But Moving Target is a different kettle of fish.

Walking into the theatre, the stage is essentially a large, white room; six characters wait, apprehensive and edgy, for us to be seated. When the house lights drop, five gang up on one - it's a clinical verbal battering, sinister glares, uncomfortable for all… but the audience doesn't know why. Suddenly, a game of hide-and-seek breaks out - again, five-against-one - and the five are left to hide amongst the frugal props.

And here, Moving Target breaks with expectations - the hide-and-seek segments (and there are many of them) are impossibly funny, with characters hiding under carpets, under cushions, under tables, behind sofas, even in plain sight with a sleeping bag on their heads. These sequences are physical humour at its finest; the time where one character got tangled up in a chair, only to be helped out of his predicament by another character (who subsequently became entangled) had the audience in stitches.

In between these segments, though, there's a much more sinister plot at play. It's gradually revealed to us: in times of heightened terror responses, there's a green parcel in a bin. It was placed there by a girl. Is the parcel a bomb? Is the girl a terrorist? Do any of these characters have anything to do with the story, or are they just narrators?

Essentially, we're none the wiser until the last ten or fifteen minutes of the performance; until then, we're happily bumbling around gleaning snippets of knowledge where we could. But in a visually intense sequence - flashing lights galore, including some jarring bright red / green transitions - the terror threat is directly addressed… and all trace of humour disappears. We're clearly in Serious Mode now; and, rather than dodging around the issue, we're taken on a linear explanation of the resolution. And then backtrack to see the other side of the story. This results in a few gasps of realisation from the audience as the performance slowly dissipates, fades to black, with a snapping of inexplicable masking tape.

Now, I don't want it to sound like I disliked Moving Target, because that'd be far from the truth. I loved those first flabbergasting 75 minutes - I loved the repetitious, circuitous, twisty-turny double-back nature of them immensely. I loved the fact that I was essentially stumbling in the dark for most of the time, creating theories and counter-theories in my mind as to the meaning of every single artifact. But the conclusion - where the plot is laid bare, linearised, de-mystified - took all the rumination away from the performance. Which ended my engagement with Moving Target as soon as I started applauding the actors. Which, for some reason, makes me a little sad… I would've preferred to take a little of the performance home with me, in a little white-walled room in the back of my mind.

Posted by pete at 01:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

DeAnne Smith: Shouting Over Drunks (FringeTIX)

DeAnne Smith @ The Tuxedo Cat

11:00pm, Thu 6 Mar 2008

Shouting Over Drunks made my shortlist, but was languishing on the Maybe pile until DeAnne Smith flyered me whilst walking through the Uni one day. She seemed charming, personable - that's all it takes to swing me… I'm such a whore.

So - after climbing the seventy-eight flights of stairs that were on the path to The Tuxedo Cat, I emerge onto the Rooftop Bar. It's a bar. On a rooftop. And it's ace. I've no idea whether it's open during non-Fringe times, but… it's lovely. Great vibe, cheap drinks (well, compared to The Garden, anyway). The Tuxedo Cat, on the other hand, is a small room with a small stage and thirty chairs. But hey, it's a venue.

DeAnne Smith is great. She's got an audience that's only just barely into double figures, but her poise and confidence onstage is second-to-none. Her raison d'être appears to be the ability to tell a compelling - though essentially humorless - story, and then turn the tale on its head with a cheap joke or pun… groanworthy, yes, but when you slip into Smith's groove (oo-er) it has a satisfying rhythm to it. The long diatribe on vaginal reconstructive surgery, for instance, led to the lowliest of cheap gags - but that journey to the joke, in itself, is still a perversely enjoyable experience.

Other notable threads from Smith included her uncanny ability to drive girlfriends to mime, and her apparent influence over her parent's alcoholism as a child. All bloody funny stuff, and that - coupled with Smith's confidence and style and stunningly hot girlfriend - had me leaving The Tuxedo Cat with a smile on my face and a resolve to see DeAnne Smith again.

Posted by pete at 01:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Ali McGregor's Midnight Lullabies (FringeTIX)

Ali McGregor & Ben Hendry @ Bosco Theatre

9:30pm, Thu 6 Mar 2008

After the Persian Garden Poets ran long, it was a panicked mobilisation from the Festival Centre to the Garden. Of course, I completely forgot that this was Midnight Lullabies' opening night, and so the Bosco staff were labouring under their first changeover - and, as a result, the show started well late.

And, to be honest, there's nothing much to report. As with last year's show, Ali and Ben provide a show of (mostly) covers with odd tempos and instrumentation. There's a few new songs - Sweet Child O' Mine is a blinder, slowed down and sweetly sung by Ali. Can't Get You Out Of My Head is somewhat less successful, but still good curiosity value, and You Shook Me All Night Long had the crowd on the edge of their seats, awaiting the next delicious line or vocal flourish - how does she hit those high notes?

Apart from that, though, the only difference to last year's show was a layer of polish (which makes everything that much nicer), and Ali's cleavage. Yummy. But cleavage or not, it's still an amazing show - beautiful songs sung by a beautiful girl with beautiful percussion… and a new CD's available after the show, too. What's not to love?

Posted by pete at 12:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Persian Garden Poets (Festival page)

Paul Durcan, John Kinsella, Dorothy Porter, Luke Wright @ Persian Garden

7:00pm, Thu 6 Mar 2008

After last years' successful foray into poetry (with wordfire and Sean M. Whelan and The Mime Set), I was eager to do more of the same in 2008 - but couldn't really afford the time to sit in Writer's Week gigs. So this seemed like the perfect event to feed my written-word desires.

Mike Ladd from the ABC emcees the evening, and - apart from some cheerfully lame rhymes - has minimal input. First up was Irish poet Paul Durcan, who started his spot with a massive pause… something like three breaths, which was either a mood setter for his generally morose readings or a measure of respect/contempt for the audience. It's kind of hard to tell. His downbeat poems were very elaborate and lyrical in nature, but rest assured I'm not dashing out to track down his anthologies.

John Kinsella was up next, and was almost a polar opposite from Durcan's quiet, dull delivery. He's an angry and passionate man, imparting huge amounts of energy and dynamism into his readings. He dwells mainly on rural West Australian themes - the silo story was fantastic - and really warrants further investigation.

When Dorothy Porter's name was announced, there was a large number of "woots" and other associated cheering from the assembled throng. But though she was an expressive reader (of snippets from her works El Dorado and Akhenaten), her words utterly failed to spark my imagination or conjure much of anything. The "woots" from her introduction were notable by their absence as she walked off.

After a short break, the "star" of the night appears: Luke Wright from the UK performed his Luke Wright, Poet & Man routine. And, quite frankly, this was the funniest thing I've seen so far this year - it's more of a standup routine that utilises poetry, rather than the other way around. But that's not to marginalise the quality of his verse - for it is sublime, often coarse, but always passionate. Company of Men speaks of the need for blokiness, Camping Dad paints a detailed (and highly amusing) picture of a dying breed, and Sex Butler was lewd absurdism at its best. There's more serious themes - death, his exposure to the class divide through his first girlfriend - but there's always something pants-wettingly funny around the corner, always a turn of phrase that sticks in your mind: "face of bumming" is one that springs to mind nearly a week later.

In short, Persian Garden Poets was utterly worthwhile. The only bummer for the evening was that I couldn't hang around to snaffle one of Wright's CDs…

Posted by pete at 12:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Sorry for the lack of updates (again) - it looks like my ISP (Internode) have some DNS issues with my hosting company. While they're sorting themselves out, I just changed my PC's DNS setup to use OpenDNS - now I can start posting that backlog of writing! :}

Posted by pete at 12:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

1984 (FringeTIX)

Urban Myth Theatre of Youth @ Holden Street Theatres (The Studio)

11:30am, Thu 6 Mar 2008

Occasionally, I'll see a piece of art - a painting, a movie, some theatre - that is so utterly, utterly wonderful that my immediate response is to hate and revile the creator - because I become so completely overwhelmed by intense feelings of envy towards them for being able to (for all I know) effortlessly create such goodness.

That's how I feel about the director of this production of 1984, Edwin Kemp-Attrill.

This young chap has taken Orwell's most famous work and placed in onstage with such a holistic clarity of vision that it's almost breathtaking. Honestly, if a theatrical neophyte like me can look at this work and think "damn, that direction is good", it must be pretty stand-out.

And it is… lighting, staging, and the overall feel of the piece is superb; and, while it might have been nice to see a bit more of the Proles, Gemma Sneddon's adaptation of the novel is satisfyingly bleak. The costumes are beautifully refined, the set sublime in its simplicity, the projections poignant without being overpowering.

It's not a perfect production, by any means - as with most youth productions, some of the performances are a little wooden. This is more than offset, however, by the actresses(!) playing O'Brien - another directoral success - and Big Brother herself, perfect harsh eyebrows and chillingly cheerful demeanor. Coddling his journal like a timid emo bookworm, Winston Smith is also perfectly cast.

But, as you might have guessed from my opening paragraphs, 1984's triumph is in its presentation. There's simply not a single directoral mis-step. Yes, I envy Kemp-Attrill immensely for having the gall to have such an exceptional eye at the age of 20; but I swear I'll pencil in every show his name is associated with in the future.

Interestingly, as I was leaving the theatre, Kemp-Attrill was addressing the school groups for a bit of Q&A. "How many of you have read 1984?" he asked. The only sound to be heard was my escaping footsteps. "How many of you watch Big Brother?" A loud rustle as a bunch of arms are raised. Then I hear a quiet voice as I hit the hot midday air: "I knew Big Brother was bad, but not *that* bad".

Posted by pete at 12:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Music Is My Sex (FringeTIX)

Nina Nicols @ Electric Light Hotel (Producers Bar)

10:15pm, Wed 5 Mar 2008

Disclaimer: I was tired (but had consumed about 6 shots of coffee in the three hours prior to the show). I could possibly be deemed to be emotionally fragile (but had just enjoyed two comedy acts). I was snuffling away in cold-fighting form.

But, honestly, it's been awhile since I've been so unmoved in a performance.

The fractured timeline in the telling of this tale was the most interesting thing about this show… and by "interesting", I mean "confused". And "detrimental".

We're presented the tale of a Daddy's-Girl Rich-Bitch who gets a record contract with her band before she's 18, traipses around the world before falling victim to the sex'n'drugs'n'rock'n'roll of the music industry, goes into rehab and winds up a successful lawyer after a stint at Oxford… all before her 30th birthday.

So - why am I supposed to empathise with her? Sounds like the luckiest girl in the world to me. At the end of the performance, I imagined that I was applauding her efforts in life, rather than the acting out thereof.

And, as any reader of this blog would know, my writing leaves a lot to be desired. But still, when I'm faced with song lyrics such as these...

Music is my sex
It's the best
When it cums inside of me
Sets my soul free

And they were some of the better lyrics.

I really, truly try to support anyone who steps on a stage in front of me. Try to feedback some energy, let them know - no matter how poor their performance is - that it's appreciated, because they're the ones with the guts to get on that stage, not me. But I struggled to do that here; I feel my forced smile may have appeared as a grimace. Still, there's positives to be had: Nina Nicols has a decent voice, and certainly looks the part of the rock goddess. But as for the rest of the show… nup. Just… NO.

(Jesus - the 'Tiser gave this a three-star review. Boy, is my thumb not on the pulse of Adelaide Fringe Quality.)

Posted by pete at 04:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Mark Watson - Can I Briefly Talk To You About The Point Of Life? (FringeTIX)

Mark Watson @ Nova Cinema 2

8:30pm, Wed 5 Mar 2008

Mark Watson really tickled my comedy bone (oo-er) when I saw him last year, and the internet coughed up a wonderful six-part BBC Radio programme he performed (with Tim Minchin, no less) which was also quite brilliant. So a ticket to this show was more than highly desirable.

Watson started the show from within the small crowd, sitting about four rows back. After explaining himself and giving us quite specific instructions - which took a good ten minutes - he finally took to the stage to rapturous applause. Much of what was presented was familiar, but his imprecise and bumbling style makes the material feel fresh - and, let's face it, he is bloody funny.

And that's about all I have to say about that. Mark Watson is a very amusing chap, with a wonderfully affable style. Laid-back, yet engaging. Totally worth your time and money. Just be aware that he may not actually talk much about the Point Of Life.

Posted by pete at 04:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

ElbowSkin's Too Hard Basket (FringeTIX)

ElbowSkin @ Rhino Room (Upstairs)

7:15pm, Wed 5 Mar 2008

I've previously seen ElbowSkin in 2004 and 2006. I liked what I saw. I purchased a ticket for their 2008 show. Riveting, eh? But Dave and Ern are back, presenting a show based on the flimsy premise that they're rehearsing for the show. A bit cyclical, yes, and certainly The Umbilical Brothers have attempted that premise before; but ElbowSkin manage to keep the laughs rattling along and, if anything, the idea facilitates some ideas that may not be possible in a more conventional show.

A bit of video footage places us at ElbowSkin's Secret Hideaway where they're busy - or not - writing the show. In desperation, they pull open the "Too Hard Basket" to get to the ideas previously deemed too hard… and we're then privvy to a ton of song snippets - often only one or two lines - that are astoundingly funny. A couple of longer songs - as seen at the Comedy for a Cause benefit gig - were also presented, along with a bunch of short skits.

Of course, the trademark ElbowSkin pre-recorded video snippets are there - the "chicken crossing the road" bits, in particular, are brilliant. Who'd have thunk that the chicken was prodded by a stick? or belted by a 3-wood? And their usual harmonies and guitar work are fantastic throughout.

But the real gem of the night was the closer. Whether it's true or not, Ernie announced that his girlfriend's parents were attending a show for the first time. After waxing lyrical about the loveliness of their daughter, he dedicated the last song to them… "I Fucked Your Daughter". There's something absolutely delightful about the idea that the words "It's fair to say she really loves the cock" are being delivered to her parents. Great stuff :)

Posted by pete at 03:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

When The Rain Stops Falling (Festival page)

Brink Productions @ Scott Theatre

1:30pm, Wed 5 Mar 2008

Wednesday matinees always bring out a special kind of crowd - namely, the senior citizens and school groups. The former arrive way too early, clogging up entry to the Scott Theatre; the latter roll up just-in-time, exploding into the venue with a self-importance that is palpable. Luckily, someone has set the thermostat in the theatre to about 21 degrees, cooling off the hotheads and lulling the oldies deeper into subdued quietness.

A man comes onstage, front and centre. As transparent screens descend from the heavens to add some semblance of depth to the set, the cast drift from wing to wing behind him. Rain starts dripping in; a fish plummets to the man's feet from above, landing with a startling thud. He picks up the fish, and we're away - telling a familial tale spanning four generations & eighty years, from Alice Springs to The Coorong to London to Adelaide.

The storyline happily skips through the multiple timelines, returning to certain periods when it suits the unfolding story. This isn't as disconcerting as it may sound; the plot is pretty straightforward, and certainly linear in its telling. We essentially just track the characters as their interactions beget the following generations; boy meets girl, marriage, kids, etc. There's a few twists to the story that are gradually revealed, and interest is maintained throughout.

"But Pete," I hear no-one but the voices in my head say, "you're being very vague. Even vaguer than usual. What are you not telling us? Did you like it or not?"

Did I like it? Well… it was certainly engaging, and wonderfully performed; not a dud actor onstage. But - at the risk of letting loose with a rather big spoiler - there was one aspect of the story that I had massive problems with: the paedophilia. Now, I understand that it's utterly crucial to the plot, but it still felt like a cheap emotive device - the easiest way to generate the maelstrom of emotions. Base; lazy, even. It just didn't work for me.

Direction was also a little flawed. Most of the time the set was beautifully realised: simple tables and chairs, those lovely translucent screens separating timelines and receiving frugal titling projections. But sometimes critical moments at the rear of the stage were obscured (I had to infer the pouring away of ashes), and there was an odd total dropping of stage lights prior to the end of the performance - which brought forth loud and uncomfortable applause as the next scene was started.

But did I like it? Let's just say I didn't hate it; but I won't be recommending it in any future conversations. But I'll admit a perverse pleasure was obtained in reading the reviews for When The Rain Stops Falling that were proudly pinned up outside the theatre - because they were universally awful. Not the opinions; the actual writing. I can only assume that there's some editors out there who are ruling with an iron fist and are above the law - but they're making their writers look shocking.

Says I.

Posted by pete at 02:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Meat - The Musical (FringeTIX)

Hannah Gadsby & Amelia Jane Hunter @ Fringe Factory (The Fridge)

10:30pm, Tue 4 Mar 2008

Kaye (Gadsby) and Berverly (Hunter) are "identical" twins bequeathed a butchery by their father; their quest for his posthumous validation lies in creating a prize-winning sausage in the local butcher's competition. Due to the less-than-sanitary conditions of the sisters' butchery, the health authorities are keen on maintaining a rigorous inspection schedule… but what to do when an over-zealous inspector threatens to shut them down? And what should they do with the body?

…you can see where this is going, can't you?

After having missed - through poor planning - Hannah Gadsby's solo standup show earlier in the Fringe, I was ultra-keen to check this one out. Of course, opening night was probably a bad idea - besides the obvious teething problems (with Gadsby hissing instructions to the techie from offstage), I also had to contend with the press contingent - bless their evil, shit-stained hearts. There was a meat raffle on offer, too - dunno whether that's a regular occurrence or not, but it certainly looked tempting.

Gadsby is deliciously dry in her delivery, Hunter painfully naïve - both perfect for their respective roles. There's a really odd couple of interviews with the police that have them unconvincingly changing roles, but it's all played for laughs and doesn't come across too badly.

The most glaring problem with Meat - the Musical is, of course, the fact that it's not a musical. This seems to indicate that the show is underdone; but what's there is a reasonable giggle, just not a meaty guffaw-fest.

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

A Midsummer Night's Dream (Festival page)

Dash Arts @ Her Majesty's Theatre

6:30pm, Tue 4 Mar 2008

As I try to type every year (it bumps up the word count… not that anyone's counting the words, but more words on the page looks impressive, at least), I love me a bit of Shakespeare. So, every Festival and/or Fringe, I try to squeeze in a bit of The Bard's work; this year, the Festival presented A Midsummer Night's Dream - as performed by an Indian / Sri Lankan cast - and I was instantly sold.

It wasn't until a few days before the show, when I was chatting with another Festival patron, that it was revealed to me that most of the dialogue wasn't in English.

Ummmm… shit. The thought hadn't even occurred to me that Shakespeare could even be delivered in another tongue. But, after the initial shock, I figured it'd be fine - I have a pretty thorough knowledge of Midsummer.

Except that I mixed that up, too - every time I'd read "A Midsummer Night's Dream", some little babelfish daemon in my brain had been substituting "Much Ado About Nothing" instead. In actual fact, I knew bugger all about Midsummer, having only seen one production and never having read it. Of course, I only realised this after I started reading the programme and noticed no familiar names in the list of characters. And being totally bewildered by the plot.

So… ummmm. Whoopsee-doodle. But off to the theatre we toddle, only to find myself sitting behind The Tallest Man in the World. No joke, he was ginormous - I was craning to see anything of the centre of the stage. I felt sorry for the chap behind me.

Initial thoughts were of worry. Already caught off-guard by the programme, I was totally thrown when the first lines of all the initial characters were in English - only to be rapidly followed by lines that were most definitely not English - and not a surtitle in sight. At that point, I gave up all hope of following the plot, biding my time until the interval.

But help was at hand - most of the female lines, and some of the male characters, were in English, and a lot of the intent was easily recognisable in the gestures and postures of the cast. Egeus' angry rabble probably benefited from the Hindi translation, in fact -this was one of the times that the language barrier was truly transcended.

As for the rest of the performance… well, there are two real standouts. Puck was absolutely brilliantly portrayed, constantly onstage either in-character, or in the guise of a rigger - tweaking the set as the need arises. His presence was a joy, his mischievous peeks through the fourth wall - eyes full of impish knowing - were delightful. Bottom was also played purely for laughs - and he plays it damn well, with a big expressive voice and eyes that matched.

Direction was a real mixed bag. Some characters were quite clearly facing backstage when delivering lines, or deep on the stage facing the wings… and it's clear that few of the performers have experience in large theatrical settings, because their voices (with the exception of Bottom) just didn’t carry. The set was gorgeous - a massive latticed backdrop covered with paper constituted Athens, with the fairies punching through the paper to create the forest.

But the interval left me confused… wasn't it halfway through Act IV? This left a very lightweight and thin post-interval section, which I can only assume provided the opportunity to insert a Bollywood-style sing-along ending. And whilst that certainly raised the spirits of the audience at the end of the performance, I'm not convinced it was necessary.

Yes, it was enjoyable. But there's still something itching away at me, suggesting that something wasn't quite right about this production. Perhaps it was the feeling that, beneath the lavish production and cheeky idea, depth was lacking; it just didn't feel like the quirky idea had been followed through. I have no idea why, though.

As a bonus, this performance was preceded by a half-hour Q&A session with Director Tim Supple which was really quite interesting. All the obvious questions popped up - language barriers, et al - and, in some ways, I found this little session more enjoyable than the pre-interval portion of the performance.

Posted by pete at 11:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Children's Cheering Carpet - Japanese Garden (Festival page)

TPO @ Space Theatre

11:00am, Tue 4 Mar 2008

As with my first Cheering Carpet (and in contrast to the second), the children in the queue for this performance were quiet and subdued heading into the performance. The raked seating that had been in The Space to support Glow had been removed overnight, leaving much more sparse seating; I took to the balcony, leaving the seats for parents & children, and offering a better view of proceedings.

The thing is, the increased physical distance from The Carpet also seemed to distance it from me emotionally, as well - I found this Japanese Garden to be far less engaging than the previous two. This may have been exacerbated by the inclusion of a more traditionally acted opening, delivered by a third performer. This opening failed to convey any significance in the overall piece, and only served to delay the time before the first audience interaction with The Carpet. But once the interactive bits started, they came thick and fast.

The visual art for the Japanese Garden was, sadly, less impressive than previous efforts; colours in the same subtle groups used together, muted, little to catch the eye. The imagination was left to feed on small iconic glyphs used to indicate walking paths, with zooming used to reasonable effect. But, overall, I found the Japanese Garden to be disappointing; the elaborate ending, with the three performers carefully laying out small small rock, glass, and sand gardens on the mat (precluding any further audience play) felt overwrought, contrived. But no matter - I'll always hold Children's Cheering Carpet in high regard for that glorious Kurdish rendition.

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

Every Film Ever Made (FringeTIX)

The Hound of the Baskervilles @ The Pod

11:00pm, Mon 3 Mar 2008

It seems a good candidate for easy laughs: Rob, Tegan and Adam joining together to whip through every film - well, every genre (nearly) - ever made. As you may expect, this performance is high on farce, and there's the requisite personality clashes - the boys want to cover all the sci-fi and action movies, whereas Tegan is keen to delve into arthouse and Bridget Jones.

Whilst obviously the title of the show is a complete fib, they do manage to cover a ton of films - re-enacting snippets from the Godfather, Terminator, Star Wars, Aliens, Top Gun, A Few Good Men, and so on. It’s all played for laughs, with a minimum of props and a loud, unrestrained style that's heavy on the wild gesticulation and yelling. A fair bit seems ad-libbed - with mixed results - but that may be "ad-libbed" with massive air-quotes around it… you can never really tell with these comedy troupes ;)

Yes, it's loud, and brash, and most certainly funny, but you can't help but think it's shallow too. Still, I guess you could say that about most comedy shows, so why not just enjoy it while it's there? But - as one of the few people in the audience that got the ...Say Anything reference, I have to object to the "most obscure" tag they gave it; there were many other references that this Cusack fan missed ;)

Posted by pete at 12:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Bill Hicks: Slight Return (FringeTIX)

Chas Early @ SoCo Cargo

9:00pm, Mon 3 Mar 2008

I love Bill Hicks. He is, without a doubt, my favourite comedian ever, living or dead. Rant in E-Minor is one of the greatest comedy albums ever assembled, and is very much responsible for a lot of my comedic preferences today.

So it was with equal parts excitement and trepidation that I bought tickets for this show - excitement, for this is the closest I'll get to ever seeing the man (aside from DVDs and YouTube videos). Trepidation, because… hey, it's Bill Hicks. He is Great and Awesome and… Inimitable. And yet, Chas Early is imitating him, his style, for the purpose of this show.

So really, it could go either way. It could be great; it could fall flat on its arse and besmirch the Great Man's name.

First up: Early has most of Hicks' mannerisms and voices down pat… even Randy Pan the Goat Boy. His research into Hicks' style is wonderfully thorough; he even looks pretty much like Hicks. And, addressing many of the ills of the world, he even sounds like you'd imagine Hicks would sound - ranting about the current Bush, reprising a lot of drug jokes, and - of course - riling against the War on Terror. There's also a few good laughs available at bringing Bill back from the dead - what would Bill say?

But…

There's a common term in technology for the repulsive emotional response that one feels when observing something that's almost - but not quite - human… the uncanny valley. And I reckon that, for all the Bill Hicks aficionados out there (and there are a few of us), Early's portrayal of Hicks - which, all things considered, is as good as it could possibly be - invokes that kind of response. Yes, the look and sound of Hicks is there… almost. And the vocal style is there… almost. But when something un-Hicks-like jars you, it sticks out like a sore thumb - the most notable bit for me was the mushroom soundbites. Yes, the content was pure Hicks, but the manner of inclusion was forced and clumsy.

But perhaps I was expecting too much. Because Slight Return is most definitely funny; its sole problem is that it's not The Real Thing.

Posted by pete at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)