Toys [FringeTIX]

Tina Evans @ Fringe Factory (151 Hindley Street)

7:45pm, Sat 7 Mar 2009

It’s listed as a fifteen minute dance piece. When the capacity crowd (all of thirty people) are finally let into the venue thirty-five minutes late, I’m concerned about missing my next show. When I take my seat in the front row, however, I discover the reason for the delay: a DVD projector, integral to the performance, cacked itself – requiring a new projector be brought in. This became apparent to me when, as I parked my arse in the front row, I wound up sitting next to a Fringe employee with the replacement projector sitting on her lap, her knees held at just the right position to effect the adequate projection onto the screen at the back of the stage… and constantly fan me with hot air.

Now, the Fringe Factory at 151 Hindley is… well, intimate. Thirty people squeezed into something not much larger than a bedroom, with a “stage” that’s maybe only 2 x 4 metres. And, as the screen displays some jarring images of childrens toys and sinister shadows (with a very ocker and only somewhat creepy voiceover), Tina Evans pops onto this tiny stage. Wrapped in Gladwrap with a bubble-wrap tutu, she poses as a music-box ballerina whilst audio of an auction is played… this is an auction for her.

Toys is completely focussed on one thing: the selling of children into the sex trade. The audio is unnerving, the video a collage of innocent and diabolical snippets, Evans’ movements perfunctory… up until she drops to the floor (well below the sightline of most of the audience), screaming and convulsing and clawing.

And then it hits you: you’re watching a child rape scene. Child Rape. By Men. Lots of Men.

And that’s pretty fucked up. The mind takes these images and runs with them, and it’s horrible. It sticks and gnaws and then dwells, forcing the brain to reconcile image and explained fact. And when Evans eventually struggles away from the scene, curls up into a ball, and starts singing of all her assailants to the tune of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”, it’s a chilling moment, an eerie moment.

So it’s all very thought-provoking and meaningful and serious, and undoubtedly brings light to a horrible issue; but, having mulled on the issue during the performance, as I dashed to my next show my brain was constantly wondering how the fuck does this make money for the artist? It was only on for three performances; it only costs $5; and a capacity crowd is thirty. Let’s say a third of those people also buy the $2 program. Thus, Evans can only gross a maximum of $510 for the entire season; how is this going to keep an artist – a worthwhile artist with something to say – fed?

Orsino Nation [FringeTIX]

Orsino Nation @ The Jade Monkey

6:00pm, Sat 7 Mar 2009

I arrive early, they’re running late. Come the allotted start time, they’re still trying to sort out the sound. There’s three people in Orsino Nation’s live incarnation: Yasmine (a flamenco dancer, branching into music) is singing, Paul on keyboards and tech wizardry, Karen on keys, percussion, violin and backing vox. After much discussion – they lost a pivotal USB hub just before the show – they eventually start… and the opening song is fucking awful. Really, truly awful. The lead vocals are getting clipped to buggery, and no-one seems to give a shit about fixing it.

Christ, it’s actually embarrassing.

The song ends, and they attempt to fix the clipping issue. Oh dear. After another couple of minutes, the problem’s solved – but unfortunately that means they start the second track – a rockier number.

And, honestly, I’ve never felt a greater desire to leave a show.

There’s no real distinct style to Orsino Nation’s music – there’s some Celtic influences, and plenty of tinklings and strangulated song snippets. Instrumentation of the songs is astonishingly bad – simple drum loops with simpler plinky-plonk piano (or basslines) slapped on over the top. But the enthusiasm with which they all attack the task at hand reminds me of a Star Wars geek handing you a copy of their fan fiction which you discover, when you reluctantly read it, is full of anatomically (and physically) impossible acts of depravity between Padmé and Leia… you raise your eyebrows, intent on telling the author that they’ve produced some complete shit, but their eyes are so wide and doleful and hopeful and enthusiastic that you can’t. You just can’t break their misguided little heart.

And this crapulence continues right to the end, including the theatrical stupidity of the final song, hopelessly optimistic in its “leave the crowd wanting more” vibe.

Unfortunately, even giving them the benefit of the doubt for equipment failures et al, just about the only positive out of the performance was the fact that it reminded me of all the decent gigs I’d seen at the Jade Monkey in the past – Bird Lantern, The Mime Set. It’s just galling that Orsino Nation garnered the biggest crowds of the lot of them, that this atonal mess get the biggest cheers I’ve heard within those walls.

Oh god, The Mime Set – they were fucking awesome. I think I may chuck on their DVD now.

Closer [FringeTIX]

Half A Star Theatre @ The Little Theatre

2:00pm, Sat 7 Mar 2009

You might have notice that show posts have dried up the last couple of days, despite the fact that I’m only seeing a relative smattering of shows lately. There’s a couple of reasons for that – perhaps the most annoying of which is my OCD, which forces me to post about shows in chronological order. In the case of Closer, however, there’s another reason:

It’s pretty unnerving to see your relationships laid out before you onstage.

And, because of that personal connection (which is, of course, completely in my own mind), it’s proving to be astoundingly difficult to write anything about. And when I do hack some text out – such as I am doing now – it will undoubtedly be ill-considered, useless shit. There’s a vote of confidence for you!

Closer tells the story – or rather, stories – of four people and their relationships, spread over a four-or-five year period. It opens just subsequent to the chance meeting of Dan and Alice, and soon thereafter Larry is introduced as an almost incidental character. Dan meets Anna, inadvertently causes her and Larry to meet, and thence follows a tale of lust, lies, betrayal, and love… without love actually appearing to be found, despite the frequent exchange of partners.

See that paragraph up there? Took me about half-an-hour to write that. Rubbish, it is – read the Wikipedia entry on Closer instead.

So, with premise and plot helpfully provided by the wider Internet, all I have to do now is chat about the uniqueness of this production. And it’s really quite compelling, from the initial curiosity of the characters meeting (Dan and Larry’s conversation in the “London FUCK” chatroom is, largely, a riot, with the two men conversing via keyboard on opposite sides of the Little Theatre’s upper stage) through to the sexual tension of Anna’s party. The first act ends with an angry dissolution – yelling and tears, and utterly familiar and recognisable.

The second act dips deep into a well of melancholy; constant breakups and reconnections, but in the end everyone ends up alone; and there was an odd audience moment when Dan strikes Alice – a lone voice in the decent-sized crowd uttered a surprised “oooh”. The cast are, generally, pretty good: the girls are fine, but Sahil Choujar didn’t quite convince me as Dan. Nick Fagan, on the other hand, is fucking amazing as Larry – one of the best performances I’ve seen in ages, managing to effectively convince me of the doting, the bitter, and the mournful phases of Larry’s life. The snarl in his voice when he tells Alice to touch her toes in Scene 7 (at the beginning of Act 2) is perfect; and then there was that line: Larry attacks Dan with the gloating barb “companionship will always triumph over passion.” That line has stuck with me for nearly two weeks now, gnawing away.

But the big kicker is how true all the dialogue feels. We’ve either said or, more likely, thought every line that’s uttered onstage. As mentioned before, I saw so much of my last major relationship mirrored in Dan & Alice – and then, later, Larry & Anna – that it was scary. Maybe I’m just attracted to Alices. Or maybe this is the language of every relationship born of passion; and that idea fills me with hope. Hope that my own sad little interactions are not isolated, and that there are others that travel the same road.

Brother Sister [FringeTIX]

Brother Sister @ The Edinburgh Castle Hotel (Band Room)

11:00pm, Fri 6 Mar 2009

As I saunter into the Band Room and park my arse on one of the pair-of-lips-shaped sofas at the back of the room, I try to remember why I chose this show; something to do with a cello, I think. It matters not – I’m here now, ready to partake in whatever’s on offer.

There’s a little bit of a video looping on a screen behind the stage – trees zooming past in rendered monochromatics. On the stage, there’s a plethora of keyboards & technical wotsits; Brother looks after the loops and keys, straying over for a little drumming; Sister’s stuck on the keyboards all night. Their first song is curious; there’s something cutesy-gothic about it, which is neatly contrasted by the pair’s clean white clothing. Some dirty samples, grubby loops, Brother’s mournful vocals.

It’s not half bad.

The second track yields some well-defined beats, and more sad vocals – this time from Sister. They’re a bit screechy, though.

This isn’t bad at all. In fact, I’m really quite enjoying myself. Sure, there’s generally not a lot sitting atop the looped percussion; but the loops are dense, intricate. Samples are bold, heavily treated, often clipped, yielding a dirty – but satisfying – sound, and every now and then a gorgeous groove emerges from the mix to catch you by surprise. The tunes are delicious, the arrangements (including the occasionally harpsichord-ish keys) delightful.

The vocals, though, are… hmmm. I’ve already used the word “mournful” once, but it was tapped at least a dozen times in my notes from the show. Lyrics seemed emo-ish in nature, but occasionally veered into ethereal and dreamy territory, perforated with snippets of melancholy. Brother didn’t have much of a vocal range, but towards the end of the night Sister started hitting the high notes that (for some reason) I’d been waiting for… but they’re thin, desperate.

And that fits in just fine. I walked out of this gig a pretty happy man, snaffling their latest CD (and a freebie CD – though the disc itself was mysteriously absent from the jewel case) and feeling pretty good about it. Dante and Xavia Nou made a very positive impression, and not a cello to be heard (their “full band” set is on the 20th of March; this was “electronic night”).

…and it’d be remiss of me not to wish Sharon a belated Happy Birthday for the night ;)

Slim Limits – The Second Coming of Gods Cowboy [FringeTIX]

George Catsi @ Fringe Factory (151 Hindley Street)

8:30pm, Fri 6 Mar 2009

It’s a high-energy opening – into the packed Fringe Factory venue (151 Hindley holds about 30 people, at a pinch) struts Reverend Slim Limits, one of God’s Cowboys. Slim’s off-sider, Brother Billy, is on the keyboard, creating church-a-rific organ punctuation, and laying down the bedrock for the sermon. He’s got the crowd clapping and chanting, there’s hallelujahs a-plenty, big smiles all around from the crowd. Reverend Slim steps to the mike, and…

…the whole show turns to shit.

It’s just as well the audience was early-Friday-night-intoxicated, because a flat crowd would have made this performance embarrassing. Appalling. As a character, Slim is hopelessly underdeveloped – it seems that the “cowboy” moniker is the sole comic contribution, with cow-fucking references and mildly amusing Bible pairings: “the meat shall inherit the earth”, “kneel and praise meat”, et cetera. There’s a decent video presentation for Slim’s BibleLand development – featuring the “John the Baptist Water Slide” and the “Joseph & Mary Go Round”, but really… that’s it. That’s all the fun I had.

I’ve seen more than one reference that George Catsi has been working on the Slim Limits character for years; I find that rather difficult to believe, because his delivery was utterly amateurish – constantly dropping the preacher’s accent, checking notes, fluffing lines. In fact, Brother Billy (Gep Blake) was the real star of the show – constantly gazing at Slim with the gaping mouth of the meek sheep, and singing up a storm. And at least he managed to stay in character.

Still, the pissed chap next to me laughed his arse off during this show. I, however, couldn’t wait for it to end.

Concrete Solace [FringeTIX]

Phantom Limbs @ Holden Street Theatres (The Studio)

7:00pm, Fri 6 Mar 2009

As the lights creep up in the inky blackness of The Studio, two figures become apparent, surrounded by small, boxy caricatures of buildings. With the ambient white noise of a metropolis as a accompaniment, they deftly move each of their four buildings, changing the cityscape as we watch. The movements are clean, refined, but I can’t help but feel I’m watching a tightly choreographed Lego-building competition.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that – I love my Lego. It’s just…

Hmmmmm.

Suddenly music seeps into the background – with the industrial beat comes a sequence of synched movements, something clearly identifiable as “dance”. And it’s great – the crisp motions give the sense that there’s been some solid classical training undertaken by James & Amy. But then the music ends, and they lie down; the lights dim and a projector squirts a little lightshow onto the cityscape. The music amps up again, and they wear their city’s buildings, slipping them on their limbs like arm or shin guards. The music is caustic, the level of excitement high…

…and then it’s over. And I’m left a little confused by my response to Concrete Solace, especially after reading back what I’ve written above…. because there’s not a whole lot of Love in the above paragraphs. And yet, I distinctly remember leaving Holden Street absolutely chuffed that I’d witnessed that performance – and not just because I’d had the chance to purve on Amy for 30 minutes. Once again, the dance thing haunts me: was it actually good, or am I just pre-disposed to enjoying that which I do not understand? There were thrilling bits I liked, and dull bits that I didn’t… but I’m buggered if I know why that results in an overall positive opinion.

It just does, I guess. I’ll use one of my usual fall-back lines: “I dunno what I was watching, but I liked it.”

Facing Death [FringeTIX]

Mary Walker Productions @ Mercury Cinema

1:00pm, Fri 6 Mar 2009

Facing Death is a mixed-mode performance inspired (not quite the right word, given the subject matter at hand) by the Kübler-Ross Model of dealing with tragedy. The Model’s Five Stages of Grief (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance) form the basis of this performance, with explorations of the stages in the form of dance, expressionist theatre, with live music backing.

In keeping with the Stages, the performance was broadly broken into five Acts. Each had its own tempo; the live drummer provided constant percussion throughout: from a slow, almost inaudible throb to driven, aggressive pulses. Lighting, though simple, was effective; limited strobing provided impact, and the use of shadow was divine. As for the physical components of the performance… well, it varied. It was, of course, focussed on the intent of the Stage in question, tied to the tempo of the drums, and was largely successful in terms of expressive movement, successfully able to evoke emotion – loneliness and the fragility of relationships were clearly evident. The nature of the movements allowed certain motifs to be easily identified, and subsequent use of these signature moves allows for the cross-pollination of the Stages in the audience’s mind.

All went well with this performance: it was moody, emotive, and turbulent… until a punter’s mobile phone rang. Rustle, rustle, rustle… ringing stops. Then starts again, rustle rustle.

Thereafter, the mood was vanquished.

Which was a real shame. I had been really enjoying myself (hey, I can joyfully wallow in grief – I’m a depressive bugger), but that innocent little ringtone of a fucking disrespectful, dickheaded so-called audience member (emphasis on the “member”, there) shot it down for me. I can only hope that it wasn’t one of the teachers present that transgressed.

Ah yes – “teachers”. Since this was a matinee, there were a few school groups in, and Mary Walker led a Q&A session with the rest of the cast at the end of the show. She highlighted the individual contributions of the actors, and provided a very straightforward breakdown of the performance; but that raised more questions in my mind than were answered. What meaning was injected, what intent was interpreted after the fact; and what was inserted into the writing? I like these questions popping into my mind because this type of creativity is utterly alien to me.

I also find it pretty cool that, when I peeked on Elisabeth Kübler-Ross‘s Wikipedia page, there’s a very simple quote (which I’ve taken horribly out of context): “half working, half dancing – that is the right mixture.” And that’s kinda what’s been delivered here – half-dance, half-theatre. Half the performance is handed to you, and half is in your head.

And I like that.

Ava’s Grá [FringeTIX]

CC Drama @ Carclew Youth Arts (Ballroom)

10:30am, Fri 6 Mar 2009

This is the second production from CC Drama that I’ve seen; back in 2007 I caught No Vacancy, where I was the only paying punter in the audience (and joined that day by the not-seen-much-in-2009 Matt Byrne). When I rolled up to my originally scheduled session at 10:30am on Thursday, I was the only punter – period.

As I walked in the door, Ian Walker (Teacher / Producer for CC Drama – lovely chap, friendly and honest and committed) greeted me… right away, I knew that I was the audience for the day. He graciously offered me a series of options: come back for another, hopefully more populated, session; a refund (but the show was only $5! It’d seem rude to accept); or he’d get the kids to put on the performance for me anyway. “That’s a very nice offer,” I said, “but last time I was in an audience of two, with a cast of eight. That was a bit uncomfortable, so I’ll just comeback tomorrow.”

“Good idea,” said Ian, “there’s a cast of sixteen this time.”

So I returned to Carclew the next day – hell, it was almost on my way to the next show – to discover that the audience size had swelled from one to six. But that was fine; inside the Ballroom, the sound was bright and echoey and required some acclimatisation. But, with the “stage” to the south of the room, the little alcove down there was used as a holding area for the ensemble of actors when not engaged in the scene, leaving them in plain sight for much of the performance – a neat touch.

Ava’s Grá deals with Irish immigrants during the Victorian goldrush, but the central love stories could be transferred to just about any backdrop. But the production feels more a collection of disparate scenes and vignettes, rather than a cohesive story – a product of committee, rather than a clear, concise vision. And, given that the piece was indeed group-devised and student-directed, that’s pretty understandable; but the brief scenes and abundance of characters don’t really allow time for any issues to be investigated to any satisfactory depth, nor allow any characters to really develop – the exceptions being William (sadly played way too young and immature) and Ava. And there was a few grating bits in the script – too many modern idioms for my liking, and did they really say “three-thirty” back in the 1850s?

But there’s still a fair few positives to take away; Melissa Dodd and Lachlan Edwards both show huge promise, as well as the actress who played the grandmother (I’m quite annoyed I didn’t grab her name, nor manage to derive it… she was ace). And, as experience performing in front of different crowds (both small and large – they had a couple of 50+ seat sessions), it was undoubtedly useful to the CC Drama students.