White Men With Weapons

Greig Coetzee @ Union Hall

7:50pm, Sat 11 Mar 2006

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

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

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

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

52 Pick Up

theater simple @ Little Theatre

2:00pm, Sat 11 Mar 2006

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

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

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

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

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

Chaplin’s Eye

@ Queens Theatre

11:30am, Sat 11 Mar 2006

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was indeed their last show.

Michele A’Court – 40 Odd Years

Michele A’Court @ The Chandelier Room (Freemasons)

9:45pm, Fri 10 Mar 2006

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

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

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

And the name of the show – “40 Odd Years”. She’s 45. Truth in comedy, and all that.

Anatomy of Discourse

Robin Davidson @ UniSA City West (HH3-08)

7:30pm, Fri 10 Mar 2006

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

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

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

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

Daniel Kitson

Daniel Kitson @ Nova 1

9:45pm, Thu 9 Mar 2006

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

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

At least, that’s what I think.

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

Ace.

Angry Young Man

MahWaff Theatre Company @ The Studio (Holden Street)

8:00pm, Thu 9 Mar 2006

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

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

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

Bizzurk

Troupe dart @ The Arch (Holden Street)

6:15pm, Thu 9 Mar 2006

Quoting verbatim from the director’s notes:

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

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

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

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

Edge

Angelica Torn @ The Bosco Theatre

3:00pm, Thu 9 Mar 2006

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

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

Emotionally battered after the death of her domineering and emotionally distant father, Plath’s seemingly unflappable exterior masked an internal demolition job. Her inability to deal with failure in her search for perfection led to self-mutilation, suicide attempts and, eventually, psychiatric hospitalisation – the scenes describing two of her psychiatrists (including “Doctor Horror”) are alternatively painful and humorous. Once she meets Ted Hughes, the emotional replacement for her father, the tale becomes even more (if that seems possible) twisted and bitter; their animalistic relationship, the physical abuse, Ted’s jealousy of her (Plath was a better poet than Hughes… and both of them knew it), Ted’s mother’s (!) jealousy of Plath… it’s a veritable bucket of nastiness.

Moving to England at Ted’s request, despite disliking the land and its people intensely (“why do they allow teeth to rot in their mouths?”), she bore two children by Ted – only to see Ted leave her for the comic relief of the performance, Assia. The venom spat forth in the name of “the Cow” seems never-ending; in the end, with Ted and Assia urging Plath to kill herself, it seems completely justified, especially given her persistent longing for Ted, even after feeling so utterly betrayed.

The first thing you sense about Angelica Torn as she takes to the stage as Sylvia is that she’s good. Damn good. Sure, you know she’s won Best Actress awards for this piece, but her cheeky laugh and forthright nature wins you over immediately. The explosion at her father’s grave is startling; the loss of her microphone midway into the second act didn’t phase her at all. And she’s either performed for two hours suffering from the flu, or has produced the finest theatrical rendition of pneumonia I’ve ever seen – either way, a huge accomplishment.

The only fault that can be levelled at this production is in its location – the Bosco Theatre. Wedged in the corner of the Garden of Unearthly Delights, it contains the most uncomfortable seating known to man – not good for two-hour performances – and is surrounded by walls that are good for only two things: letting external sound and heat in. Thus, the choice had to be made between seeing Edge (a) in the middle of the day, with street noise and sun overhead; or (2) in the evening, with lessened (but still stagnant) heat and carnival noises permeating the tale of a tortured poet. It’s a real cleft stick; I believe the afternoon was the better option (but then we wound up with mike problems. Ho, hum).

Still, this was a superb production, let down only by the old adage “location, location, location”. Put this in the Little Theatre and tickets would – quite rightly – go like wildfire.

2connect

No Strings Attached Theatre of Disability @ Higher Ground

11:30am, Thu 9 Mar 2006

No Strings Attached Theatre of Disability is a theatre group targeted at providing performers with a disability with an avenue to pursue their art; 2connect is an example of that, pairing up members of No Strings Attached with other members of South Australia’s arts community to produce four original theatre duets. The results were varied, but always thought provoking.

After a great reception from Steve Goldsmith (that’s the closest I’ve ever been to live didgeridoo), we were led into the old IMAX theatre for The Ride of Babs and Sunny – an enchanting tale of friendship, accessorised with video and The Ride of the Valkyries. Back out to the foyer for Alice’s Cat, a light-hearted caberet-ish expose of the bipolar nature of being a public servant.

Upstairs we then trekked to the old IMAX projection room (it’s HUGE!) and the highlight of the event, Trapped. Convincingly played, claustrophobic, and equal parts wit and drama, this was a fantastic piece of work – kudos to Kym Mackenzie and Alirio Zavarce. Finally, back to the main theatre for Lionheart, a three-act dance piece with clever projected visuals.

Whilst this isn’t the most polished or complex production in the Fringe, it’s obvious that all performers involved gained a great deal from the experience. More power to ’em, I say.

Chekhov & Stoppard Bite Sized

This Rough Magic @ The Pillar Room (Freemasons)

10:30pm, Wed 8 Mar 2006

This Rough Magic supplied my Shakespearean requirements for the first few Big Fringes, and I returned to them to see these two short plays. The first, Chekhov’s A Marriage Proposal, was a cracking bit of work – short, snappy, slapstick (slappy?), with great comic performances by Peter Davies and Erica Richards. David Thring’s portrayal of Ivan Vassiliyich was a touch over the top, but still raised a chuckle when he collapsed in the audience. Hurrah!

Stoppard’s After Magritte, on the other hand, was pure corn. Pun-laden to the extreme, it reminded me of the parody of English TV on The Young Ones, “Oh Crikey”. Even the director’s notes refer to the piece as “dated”; whilst there is some glee to be had from this 70’s throwback, after a while the constant twisting and turning of the dialogue (as preceded by the aforementioned puns) gets tiring.

I’ll confess to not being intimate with either piece of work (or author) going into this performance – that didn’t stop me enjoying these two snippets, though. If only Stoppard had showed a little more restraint, this could have been a perfect pair.

Miss Blossom Callahan

professional collective @ Jive

6:30pm, Wed 8 Mar 2006

As soon as the lights come up, you know you’re in for a ride on the rough side of the tracks. As the title character – an older woman, turning tricks for free, who still clings to delusions of grandeur both past and future, starts fussing over the indignant vagrant she’s allowed into her cesspool of an apartment. There’s the junkie she slept with last night; there’s the ominous landlord who’ll soon be dead by her hand. Make no mistake – Miss Blossom Callahan is no happy love story, nor raucous comedy; this is the underbelly of the underclass.

There’s something about low-life characters that brings out the best in Rory Walker – his role as Max The Cat is exceptional, being all edge and gritted teeth. But somehow he still manages to be upstaged by Nathan O’Keefe’s Junk in a performance that was grimy and nervous and totally in character. Jacqy Phillips is convincing in the title role – equal parts skank ho, naïvety, and desperation.

The final scene before the lights drop has Blossom lying forlornly on the couch, wailing “Help me!”, hoping to pull off one last scam… never a truer word was spoken. Miss Blossom Callahan is a grubby tale of desperate and seedy characters – and is all the better for it. This was superb Fringe drama, and a credit to all involved.

Royal Road of Dreams

Lorna, Declan and Matthew @ Higher Ground

5:00pm, Wed 8 Mar 2006

Wow… this was really, really odd. It’s also the first thing I’ve seen inside Higher Ground, the old IMAX theatre complex – it looks to be a decent casual venue, with wide steps just aching for tiered lounging. For this performance, however, we were stuck on rickety chairs down the front.

It opens… weird-like. A petite female, bearded-hippie-stereotype male, and a blind flautist appeared for a bit of a musical bit. They then congregate on the compass-points of a circle and greet the spirits.

Ummm…

They leave the stage. The girl and blind-guy reappear; he plays flute, whilst she dances with a snake. Ummm… she then does a little gymnastic routine that, by the standards set at the Garden, is thoroughly unspectacular. Then bearded-guy comes back onstage, dressed as a 4-metre-tall giant. He (the giant) plays the drums for a bit, with flute accompaniment, and then the trio return to their compass points and thank the spirits. Blind-guy and girl do, anyway – the giant remains mute.

This was the opening night for Royal Road, and they obviously had a bit of prep work to do – but starting twenty minutes late, they still managed to finish on time. Which is admirable. But, to be honest… I haven’t got the faintest fucking clue what the point of this performance was. Not a single idea. None. It just felt like I was sitting in on someone’s private religious worship ceremony. Which is kind of… icky. And wrong.