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.

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 :)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.