Category: 2006 – Adelaide Fringe Festival

Deep Fried Love

Amy Bodossian @ Lizard Lounge

11:59pm, Fri 3 Mar 2006

Score: 5

Accompanied by a solitary guitarist, Amy Bodossian presents us with a (mostly) one-woman cabaret show comprising song, poetry, and theatrical exploits. For the most part it’s entertaining, without reaching the heady heights of excellence.

Being easy on the eyes and ears, Miss Bodossian covers a lot of bases – her singing is ace, her voice ranging from smokey and sultry through to shrill, as the occasion warrants. Her songwriting, likewise – the “Pussy Cat” song being a show highlight. Her poetry, though, can only be described as “obvious” – it seems simple, always going for the easiest rhyme; the next line nearly always writes itself in your own mind before she has uttered a word.

The rest of the production – an introspective look at Amy’s search for love – is adequate, but not ground-breaking. In all, this was an inoffensive way to spend a late Friday night; unfortunately, the assembled crowd were some of the biggest fuckknuckles I’ve ever shared a venue with. Here’s a tip: if you want to chat with someone, don’t go to a fucking show. Believe it or not, there are likely to be paying patrons who don’t give a flying fuck about your minutiae, and actually get pissed off when you start yelling to give your voice prominence above the performer.

Harrumph.

Empire

Theatre of Decay @ some dingy backstreet in Kent Town

8:00pm, Fri 3 Mar 2006

Score: 9

We meet the Theatre of Decay crew outside the main FringeTix office, replete in their red bandanas. Once the sell-out crowd of 12 (!) was assembled, they led us all on a dark, quiet, expectant stroll across the parklands to some dark, barely lit side-street in Kent Town. The performance, they explained, takes place in a car; two actors in the front, three audience in the back. Four different cars, four different directors, eight different actors.

We get split into groups of three and taken to our cars. We, apparently, had one of the “better” cars, but it was still tight squeeze in the back seat for a fatty like me and my two companions. In the driver’s seat, a man nervously waiting for something. The other actor, we surmised. And so we were waiting too. The tension in the car grew.

Cars occasionally pass us down this quiet back-street. Suddenly, the other man – his step-brother- is in the car with us, and the more overt aspect of the performance begins. It’s tense, it’s moody, it’s rife with racism, tolerance, hatred, compassion, understanding… the two brothers cover a wide range of themes and issues. When the end comes, it’s sudden – and we’re bewildered. It’s difficult to know what to do – the men remain in character, we’re imposing on their world. I wanted to thank them for the performance, but it didn’t feel appropriate. Or even safe to do so, such was the atmosphere in the car.

It’s painful, it’s provoking, it’s powerful – and the fact that there’s a different interpretation of the piece in each of the four cars is compelling. Oh, to have had the opportunity to have seen this again.

(In chatting with my guide for the evening, I learnt that one of the producers spent ages scouting the location of this dim street. And Theatre of Decay’s other work, Empire, has a similar directorial twist – it’s performed entirely in a dark room. If only I’d managed to sneak that in, too…)

Further note: I bumped into Rod Lewis (of ATG) and he mentioned that the four different interpretations were, due to different directorial inclinations, of substantially different lengths. Mine (car 2?) ran for a plump 45 minutes; his (the car with two female actors) was a more svelte 25 minutes.

Polaroid

Catriona Gilchrist @ Fowlers Live

6:30pm, Fri 3 Mar 2006

Score: 6

Polariod presents us with four character pieces and a couple of songs. The first piece didn’t raise my hopes much, being an obvious (for those in the industry) look at the proliferation of acronymity and detachment in today’s average office worker’s life. Meh.

The second piece, the representation of an Irish woman espousing truths and interpretations of her children, is a touch better. The third – a junkie – packed a whallop; well constructed, and played with the desperation required.

A short duet (with guitar), and the final piece featuring a socially-challenged fellow in search of… he knows not what. A final solo song – chucklingly off-key, but well handled – and we’re out.

So – a competent performance, earnestly done.

And now we come to one of the worst things about the Fringe. And that’s when you’re in a show where there’s an embarrassingly small crowd. Especially when it’s a crowd of… one.

That’s right – I was the only paying punter at this performance.

Catriona Gilchrist trekked over for the weekend for three performances of this piece, and after one performance she’d had exactly one patron through the doors.

To be honest, she handled it incredibly well; she directed any audience specific stuff directly at me, “ladies and gentlemen” became “sir”, and in general had some fun with what I’d consider to be a heart-breaking situation. I really felt sorry for her, sorry that I was the only person in the audience; conflicting emotions where I felt like apologising for the fact that she actually had to perform because I was there, and apologising for the rest of the city who hadn’t turned up this evening.

Still, she and here crew were confident they’d manage to get a few more people through the doors over the weekend; whilst it wasn’t the most compelling performance of the Fringe, it certainly deserves more than one person spectating.

True North

Jigsaw, Neo @ Fowler’s Live

11:00pm, Thu 2 Mar 2006

Score: 8

I was mightily impressed with Neo in 2004, so I pencilled this one in early. The True North collective is a stack of Northern Territory who’ve traveled down for the Fringe, to get noticed, and widen their audience. There’s a different line-up for every True North show; since they don’t appear to be on the Fringe website anywhere, here they are:

• 26 Feb: Sasha & Leah, Neo, eMDee
• 1 Mar: Timmy Marten, Neo
• 2 Mar: Jigsaw, Neo
• 3 Mar: Neo, Cooperblack
• 5 Mar: Jigsaw, Sasha & Leah, Neo
• 12 Mar: Timmy Marten, Neo

First up tonight were Jigsaw. A tight four-piece with a female bassist (is there a single female bass player who isn’t hot?) and Neo’s Jack Tinapple on vocals, they delivered a punchy twenty minute set; all groove, no filler. Really impressive.

The lads from Neo then came on mid-song to launch into another awesome set. Neo really are great, a fabulous funk-tinged band who got the small crowd dancing (except for the tubby guy with the orange Okanuis… ie, me. Hey, I don’t dance). They trotted out couple of new songs (“Waiting For The Bus Blues” was a belter), and dug back into the archives for a few (“I Just Sleep Here” being the most notable).

The only disappointment was that they didn’t play my fave Neo track, “Wrecking Ball”. It would have segued so well into the break-down tail-end of that “Mojo” song; still, it might have busted up the dancing vibe somewhat.

Overall, two hours of killer and not an ounce of filler. Hurrah!

The Bubonic Play

Piggy Nero @ The Arch (Holden Street)

7:30pm, Thu 2 Mar 2006

Score: 9

This, quite frankly, was brilliant.

It’s a simple love-triangle tale told based at the height of the bubonic plague’s popularity. It’s played completely for laughs. And the laughs come thick and fast.

From the moment the busty Mathilde (Clare Thomson) starts scrubbing the stage floor – believe me, only a flashing neon sign proclaiming “CLEAVAGE” would be more overt – until the Shakespearean “all fall down” ending, the Piggy Nero crew have us laughing our arses off.

It’s a pretty physical production – the staged sex gymnastics alone would’ve required a bit of muscle. And there’s a tiny bit of puppetry. And penises. The simulated river and the remote-controlled horse-and-cart are locked neck-and-neck in a battle for the “Best Cheap Use Of Props” title. And the sole piece of audience participation… genius. GENIUS. It got milked for the rest of the performance.

Rude and offensive? Hell yes; it’s not a show for the kiddies. But if you’re after a lot of bawdy gut-laughs, you’d be hard-pressed to find something better than The Bubonic Play.

-M[O]TH-

People Being Watched @ The Arch (Holden Street)

6:00pm, Thu 2 Mar 2006

Score: 2

Note to the director: in order to maximise the potential enjoyment of your audience, it really really helps if you assist them in being able to see the performance. This entails the following:

• Not obscuring the entire cast with smoke, wrapping the audience with same smoke, and then providing no lighting; (as per the opening act)
• Try to ensure that the performance takes place below the audience’s sight line;
• Don’t have unrepeated actions that are pivotal to the “plot” take place on one side of the stage, obscured by cast members, or in the wings;
• Try to keep the performance on the stage, not behind the audience;
• Don’t have the majority of your stage lighting at audience eye level, blinding them every time you attempt to highlight the cast;
• Don’t create so much smoke that the audience can’t see a fucking thing (as per the closer).

Seriously, the way this performance took place, there wouldn’t be a single member in the audience that could truthfully claim that they saw the whole thing. Which makes it tough, since it’s not the easiest performance to comprehend at the best of times.

Still, there’s some interesting ideas there – the cocoon and red-eye masks were great, when you could see them – but it’s pretty hard to make the audience fight through the obscurity when you make it so hard for them. The guy next to me that nodded off certainly struggled; the piercing screams at the end of the piece sure woke him up, though. And fired off my tinnitus.

The clichéd thing to do would be to take the advertising line “a grotesque fairytale” and make up some witty “nightmare” type statement. But that’d take more effort than this deserves.

The Happy Prince

University of Wollongong Faculty of Creative Arts @ Star Theatre 2 (Hilton)

11:00am, Thu 2 Mar 2006

Score: 6

So – it’s a musical adaptation of the Oscar Wilde play. That’s that sorted, then.

The cast of four are equally matched by the audience. They’ve got a musician too, so the production is winning in numbers.

Which is a shame, because they were really quite good.

Sure, it’s a little cutesy and twee – but what do you expect when portraying the friendship between a sparrow (the delightful Michaal Monk) and a statue? It’s a beautiful play, competently performed, and criminally under-patronised.

Telefunken

Stuart Orr @ Queens Theatre

10:30pm, Wed 1 Mar 2006

Score: 6

One word describes this piece best: dense.

There can be no doubt that Stuart Orr puts in an incredible performance, switching between a multitude of characters based around the deranged musings of an SS deserter in 1945-Berlin, with the Russians at the gate. He leverages a fantastic AV set, a great projection screen that he also uses for shadowy hijinks, as well as providing a sense of claustrophobic foreboding.

But parts of Telefunken are just downright confusing – the timeline drifts between decades, basing itself at the end of World War II, but also taking in the American present, media snippets being sourced from, seemingly, the entire history of television.

To be sure, this is a performance of incredible depth by Orr – but I can’t help feeling that the message is a little blunt. The anti-television, anti-propaganda ranting is rarely hidden; it’s akin to being beaten soundly about the head with it.

(You know what? I can’t really express myself properly on this one. Instead, I’ll point you to this blog post which, though they seemed to enjoy it more than I, seems to cover all the bases. It even has corrections by Orr himself.)

Low Level Panic

Maiden @ Bakehouse Theatre

6:00pm, Wed 1 Mar 2006

Score: 4

Ugh, I hate writing this. Or rather, I hate writing things like this. Where a production has only the best intentions in mind, where it has an important message to put across, but is… well… unenjoyable.

Low Level Panic deals with the pressures placed on women by society, examining the various sources – media, expectations borne of others, and just the very fact of being female. All very noble, to be sure; but the script is a let-down.

The initial back-and-forth banter between two characters over the improbability (and impracticality) of pornography was dry and stilted at best, and the following social conundrums that followed were tedious in the extreme. The re-enacted rape of one of the characters, however, was the kind of powerful, punch-to-the-face theatre that makes one shift to the edge of their seat; surely this would be a turning point to the production?

But then we return to the banality prior to the flashback; whilst we now have more understanding of the characters, it feels like such a theatrical let-down. “Turning point”? More like “sharp spike”.

It’s a shame, really – Maiden are obviously a talented bunch, and the cause is utterly noble and righteous. All the good intentions in the world won’t overcome a limp script, however; and that’s a shame, because that two-minute emotional assault-and-battery in the middle is that good.

Jeremy Elwood – Rock Plus Roll

Jeremy Elwood @ The Chandelier Room (Freemasons)

11:15pm, Tues 28 Feb 2006

Score: 7

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

Not Jeremy Elwood.

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

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

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

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

Not that I’m a poof.

The Burlesque Hour

Finucane & Smith @ The Famous Spiegeltent

8:30pm, Tues 28 Feb 2006

Score: 9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s one way to get a Brazilian.”

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

“Apparently not,” I observed.

Fantastic.

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

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

Maria Bamford

Maria Bamford @ Nova 2

7:00pm, Tues 28 Feb 2006

Score: 4

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

Just observational humour and characterisations.

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

Disappointing.

The Last Days Of Mankind

Circus Elysium @ The Bosco Theatre

5:30pm, Tues 28 Feb 2006

Score: 9

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

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

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

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

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

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

Donny – The Rock Opera

Monkey With A Gun Theatre Guild @ Little Theatre

10:00pm, Mon 27 Feb 2006

Score: 4

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

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

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

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

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

Absence and Presence

Andrew Dawson @ Queens Theatre

8:30pm, Mon 27 Feb 2006

Score: 3

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

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

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

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