Tag: Theatre

• Intergenerational Trauma with a Side of Fish Soup: NUTS’ When the Rain Stops Falling

  September 21, 2022 2:41 pm Comments Off on Intergenerational Trauma with a Side of Fish Soup: NUTS’ When the Rain Stops Falling

  Editor’s Note: This review contains spoilers.
   
  When the Rain Stops Falling is a complicated play. By the close of the first minute there had already been umbrella art, a man had screamed into the audience, and a fish had fallen from the sky. The play becomes only marginally less strange after this point.
   
  Despite this slightly absurd starting point, the opening monologue, delivered by Gabriel York (an impressive performance by Nic Mayrhofer) after he has finished screaming, and prompted by the aforementioned fish, brings the play a little closer to earth and deftly sets the tone going forward. The story of When the Rain Stops Falling is that of a family spanning four generations, with each being failed by the one before, then failing their children in the same ways. It is slow and melancholic, and the play’s 80-year span allows for a nuanced exploration of how the way we are raised shapes us, and how that goes on to influence the people around us. How family history repeats itself – over and over again.
   
  A real understanding of this theme is what gives NUTS’ production its first laurel. Throughout the work, scenes, parts of scenes, and even turns of phrase are echoed – different characters in different places going through the same motions. The way these moments are staged in this production, with the same movements in the same positions only with different actors and context, evokes an appropriately eerie sense of déjà vu that is a credit to director Emily Austin.
   
  These mirrored moments are not the only way the play works to show how past events trickle down to influence the present. Over the course of the play, scenes from different times occasionally ‘collapse’ in upon each other, providing a contrast between the two or showing the action in different lights. The technique is uncommonly abstract for the work and, as such, can take a little time to adjust to before the audience has time to become familiar with the whole complement of characters. The payoff, however, is tremendous, and sets up some genuinely heart-wrenching moments. Perhaps the highlight of its use is the moment in which a much older Gabrielle York (with two ‘l’s and an ‘e’; played by Angie Weckert) watches her younger self (Chloe Tyrell) during one of her few happy moments, leaving the viewer torn between the perspectives of the two characters.
   
  Perhaps the only real disappointment with the story comes with the reveal of the play’s original absentee father Henry Law (Lachlan Houen) as a, probably murderous, paedophile. While certainly shocking, it never feels truly integrated with the rest of the work and thus, somewhat unearned. The reveal’s only real plot significance is as catalyst for Henry’s wife Elizabeth’s change from her young, frustrated intellectual iteration (a standout performance by Taylah Shiell) to the older, broken woman (Winnie Ogilvie) that we see through the eyes of her son, Isaiah Prichard’s Gabriel Law (one ‘l’, Law not York – I know). As it stands, the reveal ends up colouring the whole work with an unnecessary sense of gone-too-far which at times makes a touching and subtle story feel hostile and unapproachable.
   
  The director’s note for the production thanks the crew for putting the ‘magic’ in magical realism, and Austen was right to say so. The lighting design works well to carve up the crowded and mostly unchanging set into distinct areas and feels natural enough that it rarely draws attention to itself. The sound design is a little more hit and miss but the hits are spectacular. While the sad piano covers of pop songs that underscore part of the play often distract from rather than add to their scene, the atmospheric sound – the hum of an engine or the ever-present rain – was reliably in the sweet spot of present but not obtrusive. This is not to say, however, that the sound design plays only a supporting role; the cavernous echoes that accompany some of the most important notes in the play are both a striking effect and draw attention to what that line means for the characters, present and otherwise.
   
  While the feel of the production became distinctly messier during its latter half, that part also contained some of the best scenes and performances of the show. The dramatic irony of the scene in which Gabriel and Gabrielle declare their love for one another blissfully ignorant of the fact that they are about to wrap their car around a tree at 140 kph is enough to make you feel ill and the scene where Gabrielle tells Elizabeth Law of her son’s death in that accident would feel at home in any professional production.
   
  All in all, NUTS’ production of When the Rain Stops Falling is a skilful execution of a complicated and extremely heavy work. While the scrappy, rough-around-the-edges feel common to student productions is absolutely present in this one, the powerful performances and clever design and direction of its best scenes make its flaws easy to forgive and can leave the audience reeling long after the curtain falls.

  Jack J. Batten

• Broke Bitch Mountain: Magically Mediocre

  August 12, 2022 7:31 pm Comments Off on Broke Bitch Mountain: Magically Mediocre

  The title is not a backhanded compliment. It is a front-handed compliment. The Women’s Revue is okay. It’s SO okay! The Women’s Revue is okay, but that’s not all it is. It is also very, very fun.
   
  The show is a delightful celebration of mediocrity. If you’re looking for a Broadway production, you may want to look in Kambri instead for whatever large, acclaimed act it has managed to entice into its profit margin. Part of the reason why Broke Bitch Mountain is mediocre is simply because of its genre. It’s operated on the budget of a student organisation, and the entire production is written by members of the Revue, a massive and applaudable feat in itself. 
   
  I got exactly what I expected to see: people in handmade props and dollar store wigs performing their hearts out. 
   
  First, let’s talk about the band, who had their own stash of snacks. I am offered a sour worm upon approaching them to chat. I found out that some of them do this out of a love of performance. Others have been lovingly coerced into playing instead. The experience for them has been full of light and laughs. The band found different reasons for performing compared to the cast. There isn’t a single person in the band who considers themselves a new hand at this. For them, it’s about a chance to peacock a little (it’s hard to casually stumble upon a saxophone to show off your skills) and simply enjoy playing music with other people. It’s a group of people who find it more fun to play together. The band promises and delivers the most polished aspect of the entire performance.
   
  There’s a genuine love in all these skits that comes throughout the Revue. They’ve been written from scratch by a large variety of the cast, directors, band and even those who have come to the writing workshops without being in the show. I dithered around the cast and crew of women’s revue for their tech and dress rehearsals like a colourful spectre haunting Kambri. There were nervous shuffles of feet and a colourful tale about the threat of a wet pillow as coercion to join the cast as I asked to take interviews. Soon after though, everyone relaxed more. 
   
  An autonomous space feels more comfortable and welcoming in many senses. It feels more relaxed. Critically, it allows people to try something new and be bad at it, like comedy writing. For many, this was their first experience in performing and writing comedy. Given how male-dominated the comedy space is, many echoed that it was more comfortable to pitch ideas and to let themselves feel funny in a group like the Women’s Revue. And many people told me with sincere warmth in eyes ringed with stage make-up – there’s no pressure to be good at being funny. It’s a collaborative process with a group of kind, non-judgemental and supportive people who are there to fall back on when you’re not so confident in your ideas.
   
  One girl magics out a container of homemade brownies. It’s easy to see how you can grow out of the fear of mistake-making mediocrity into magical mediocrity-fuelled passion in an environment like this.
   
  Now, it’s false advertising to say that the Women’s Revue delivered 100 percent on the supposition of being bad at their craft. Disappointingly, several musical parodies will indeed be stuck in my head. The yeast infection song will be with me for two years (watch the show, and you’ll get it. The reference, not the infection). 
   
  The show falls flat on its long-form comedic skits, which try to balance a political element and a humour element and delivers on neither. The actors deliver their lines with good comedic timing and appropriately dramatic expressions. However, it’s the writing that lets these skits down. I won’t point to specific examples because 1. My memory is Bad, and 2. The Women’s Revue writes collaboratively, and it’s fairer to share that critique equally.
   
  The skits that don’t stick the landing share a common theme. They portray familiar, shitty situations in order to poke at the absurdity underlying them. The not-good ones are not absurd enough. They show a situation that settles into the uncanny valley of experiences. Where it’s ALMOST close enough to a real lived experience, but not QUITE close enough for it feels relatable. The Revue, however, in the pre-emptively defensive way that all people socialised as women are familiar with, is incredibly self-aware. They aptly have a skit centred around “let[ting] women be bad at things”, which resonated with me as someone whose academic transcript has more credits than a bank will ever give me.
   
  I chat to the co-directors Brindha and Sian in the scant break they have between rehearsing Act 1 and Act 2. Brindha states, frank and honest, that there were issues they were uncomfortable making light of or simply didn’t know how to address in a light-hearted way. Sometimes, things just did not land, and there were constant revisions in the creative process to figure out how to keep things fun and joyous. They share a knowing look as Sian says, “when you’re writing a skit, you have to open to it not being good.” I assume that look communicates at least 203 scrapped ideas. 
   
  Broke Bitch Mountain is described by the directors as a political but not an activist show. It is about using joy to convey topics that are otherwise difficult to talk about. There’s something therapeutic about telling stories and creating comedy from experiences that would otherwise be unfunny. Sian sticks me with a gaze so intensified by the dramatic theatre lighting that I would’ve believed her even if she said that the sky was red. She tells me she thinks there’s a power in laughing about the Big Bad Issues. It doesn’t make them go away, but it lightens the burden in your heart about it.
   
  I ask them why they’ve chosen to take the leap and take on the huge role of organising the Revue. The show first called for auditions in March, and it’s been a very long haul. Brindha ponders for a moment, telling me about the organisational skills that she’s gained, the experience of guiding a team, before laughing lightly and saying simply, “I like making people laugh. I like making people happy.” 
  I find myself smiling at her reply. Goal achieved, I think.
   
  The Women’s Revue is okay, but that’s not all it is. There’s a liberty in being just okay at things but still doing it with all the love in your heart anyway. The songs, the skits, and the dances squeezed onto the small stage of Broke Bitch Mountain are infinitely enjoyable. The people up on the stage are students, doing this for the love of the performance, for a chance to try something new, and most importantly, for a chance to make you laugh.
   
  Let’s go give them one.
   
  Editor’s Note: This review was written after attending and watching the second half of a dress rehearsal, not a performance during the show’s full run. 
  Tickets available here.
   

  Women’s Revue Program.
   
  Think your name would look good in print? Woroni is always open for submissions. Email write@woroni.com.au with a pitch or draft. You can find more info on submitting here.
   

  Maddy Wang

• Arts Revue: Love Capital Review: An All-Round Bloody Good Time

  October 11, 2019 5:11 pm Comments Off on Arts Revue: Love Capital Review: An All-Round Bloody Good Time

  I had the pleasure of attending the opening night of Arts Revue: Love Capital on Wednesday. In classic arts fashion, the show’s humour was endearingly self-deprecating in all the right ways, and the references were varied and original enough to keep the ball rolling. Some skits were all too real, with scathingly accurate depictions of Sydney private school privilege and Australian bro culture, just to name a few. At certain times the crowd was laughing out of pain, *cough* free labour and ‘stupol’ shoulder tapping *cough*. At others, it was pure Glee, which I was glad to see return in multiple iterations throughout, because who doesn’t love a throwback.
  The cast were exceptionally engaging and great at keeping in character throughout. Even those less comfortable singing gave it a red-hot crack and delivered on enthusiastic projection. Some impressive vocal talent was on display, with old theatre hats like Sachini Poogoda leading the way. There were more than a few ghosts of productions past showing their best on stage, including Lewis Laverty-Wilson, who was back again with a variety of accents. But there were also some exciting new faces and dynamic talents in some kickass women performers.
  A huge congratulations must go to one of the tightest musical ensembles I’ve ever heard at a revue, expertly led by Patrick Haesler, commanding a huge repertoire. Well-chosen tunes set the backdrop for extremely smooth transitions, and credit must go to Bec Emder who managed to enlist the cast as her stagehands. Props (haha) must go to the tech team, who, despite some fuzzy mikes at the beginning and end, helped create a seamless show with well-timed cues.
  The skits blended political, humanities and general on-campus humour to appeal to a wide audience. This meant that the show was accessible to almost anyone, rather than typecasting a typical viewer as other productions have done in the past. The choice to keep the theme generic meant that individual moments could shine and didn’t seem repetitive. Some of my favourite skits made excellent use of wordplay to deliver sharp ‘ba doom chick’ moments. 
  The classic references to ANU culture in the opening and closing numbers, while perhaps overdone in revues, were like  warm, satisfying embraces. All the concepts were great, and while some of the more finicky dialogue didn’t quite ‘land’, the ideas were clever and genuinely funny. Some skits didn’t shy away from edgier topics, which were delivered in a sensitive and intelligent manner. The ensemble showed that they had multiple angles, but shout-outs must go to Harry Power’s hilarious facial expressions and Jonah Lafferty’s diverse character range, with a distinct Biblical theme!
  Special mention goes, of course, to the dynamic directing duo of Ella Serhan-Sharp and Elroy James. Their ‘El squared’ energy had me in stitches when they gave their own unexpected, yet cracking, rendition of a classic retro hit (no spoilers though!). Producers Penny Henderson and Zoe Ranganathan had sourced a great range of costumes, and the recurring theme of red was both strategic and relevant. The choreography was purposeful and clear, if sometimes very literal.  
  Arts Revue: Love Capital is perfect if you want a fun night to distract you from end-of-semester misery, and a reminder that our university is full of some really cool people doing awesome things. You’ll be guaranteed a wholly enjoyable and hilarious evening of entertainment. Also, who doesn’t love a revue that finishes when it says it will? Well done, team!

  Eleanor Armstrong

• NUTS’ Picnic At Hanging Rock: Review

  May 10, 2019 4:00 pm Comments Off on NUTS’ Picnic At Hanging Rock: Review

  A gothic mystery like no other, ‘Picnic At Hanging Rock’, has hit the ANU Theatre scene. This is the National University Theatre Society’s second production under this year’s theme, “This is Our Youth”, and this Australian classic featuring adolescent characters fits the bill. As directed by Matilda Hatcher, the mystery of the story is enhanced by the movement of the characters against the backdrop of an eversame Australian bush.
  The classic Australian story set in the outskirts of Melbourne at the beginning of the 1900s is about a group of schoolgirls that go missing, and the subsequent questions and self-torture that those who are left behind go through. Not only a mystery, the story also has themes of femininity, belonging, and touches into the colonial experience. In my opinion, it is never not timely to question the validity of colonialism, especially looking into our own history as Australians, so this play is always going to draw me in. What left me in awe was the solid production put into action by Hatcher and her cast and crew.
  The all-female cast did an incredible job at embodying a vast array of characters, at times spontaneously swapping between them while providing both narrative and dialogue. This took a little getting used to, but after a few minutes the hypnotic effect had me hooked. The physical weaving and chant-like delivery of lines, doubled with the fluent changes between characters, was intoxicating – you felt as drawn to the omnipotent Hanging Rock as much as the girls did. This effect is no doubt owing to the direction Hatcher, who also makes her debut in the role.
  The set was artfully decorated, with some impressively sized trees in the background, and, in typical student theatre fashion, an up-cycled three-legged cabinet with a prosthetic leg tacked on. There was perhaps an over-use of blackout between scene transitions. I did overhear some audible sighs where I was seated, although that could have also been due to the fact that the woman behind me was providing fervent commentary in a whisper fit for the stage. The judicious use of sound effects – the whistling of the Australian bush, the ticking of a clock – must be commended for providing the atmosphere of mystery (despite the faint thump of the bass from the Meg Mac concert in the next room). Some surprising comedic moments balanced the slow, inevitable descent into total desperation that was epitomised by Anna Burnard’s portrayal of schoolmistress Appleyard. I almost felt guilty, spying on her as she unravelled, but I was stuck on every word.
  As someone who is well-acquainted with the original Joan Lindsay novel, I felt the centrality of Miranda – as an ethereal, cult-leader-like figure whose hold on the people around her is non-transient – could have been lost on those who were unfamiliar with the story. However, the fact that any of the women on stage could have been Miranda at some point added to the atmosphere of mystery rather than detract from it. Through the movement sequences, I found myself constantly looking for Miranda – in a way reminiscent to how the character Michael Fitzhubert (whose exasperation was superbly captured by Marni Mount) obsessively searches for her.
  A wonderful student theatre production that highlights the Australian voice, as well as those of women (hurrah!), make sure you don’t miss out on seeing it.
   
  ‘Picnic at Hanging Rock’ is at the Kambri Drama Theatre for two more nights (10th & 11th May). See the Facebook event for more details and to buy tickets.

  ‘Picnic At Hanging Rock’, has hit the ANU Theatre scene as part of NUTS’ 2019 annual theme, “This is Our Youth.”

  Lily Iervasi

• ANU ShakeSoc Presents: Much Ado About Nothing: A Review

  May 4, 2019 6:29 pm Comments Off on ANU ShakeSoc Presents: Much Ado About Nothing: A Review

  It wouldn’t be the theatre without death, a wedding, tears of laughter and a few turtlenecks; and that’s exactly how I would describe Much Ado About Nothing. Directed by Kate Garrow, the Shakespeare Society presents the comedic tragedy that follows the life of two couples who couldn’t be more opposite. Hero and Claudio, played by Emma Roberts and Rohan Piliutla share a romance that can only be described as a fantasy: meet, instantly fall in love, get married… almost, die…almost, then actually get married – but under false pretenses of course. Roberts’ wail when Hero is falsely accused of not being ‘pure’ is so powerful it drowns out Piliutla’s aggressive monologue. A perfect tragedy. For the comedy look no further than most every scene with The Watch. They don’t need to rely on laughs to keep the audience alert however – the repeated sounding of an air horn does a great job of that.
  If you’ve ever seen a romantic comedy, you’ll know the story of Beatrice and Benedick (played by Cailtin Baker and Damon Baudin respectively). First they can’t stand to be near each other, then they can’t stand to be apart. The only difference in Much Ado About Nothing is that it takes everyone around them to be in cahoots and create fake letters professing their love for one another to make that happen. Beatrice and Benedick; Baker and Baudin. Though their names belong in the B-team, their acting definitely doesn’t. Baker and Baudin steal the show with their endless banter, wit and intellectual energy.
  From the villain to the friar, each character is dripping with comedic material – some more so than others. But, without the lulls, the highs wouldn’t be as funny or as memorable. With serene guitar solos, a hilarious flute-like-instrument solo, and dance routines comparable only to ‘Mamma Mia’’s ‘Voulez-Vous’, the talent in this play is not limited to acting. Though the accents were questionable at times, they were far better than the average person’s and thus, my hat goes off to everyone involved in bringing this play to the Kambri stage.
  If a night of laughter, sadness, and sexual innuendoes is what you desire, look no further than the Shakespeare Society’s Much Ado About Nothing.  
  The Shakespeare Society’s Much Ado About Nothing is at the Kambri Drama Theatre for final showings on the 4th May.

  Sara Gillespie

• Kids these days: a review of NUTS’ ‘Peter Pan’

  April 25, 2019 3:55 pm Comments Off on Kids these days: a review of NUTS’ ‘Peter Pan’

  For the first ever student-led production held at the Kambri Drama theatre, the National University Theatre Society (NUTS) has put together a reimagined version of J M Barrie’s classic play Peter Pan. The choice of play is particularly apt—the core themes, exploring the meaning and empowerment of youth and growing up, provide a welcome reprieve from the University’s own disempowerment of students in our shiny new Kambri Precinct.
  NUTS’ production of Peter Pan is an exercise in the absurd. It has the quaint charm of a child’s stick-figure painting that one would find on a fridge and the enthusiasm of a high school debate. The cast and crew clearly had a lot of fun and it came through in their performances.
  Directed by Amy McDonald, Peter Pan is a playful adaptation of the original play, with strong acting and a gorgeous set design revitalising an otherwise dated piece of literature. The choice to set the show in a theatre in the round places students, and the focus of our youth, in the centre of the action. The set is made up of many different and unique pieces made up from toys and other artefacts from one’s youth.
  It has always struck me how J M Barrie’s play explores the ideas of choosing when to grow up, free from the external pressures of our society, yet simultaneously denying that right to self-determination and empowerment for many of the characters inhabiting the fictional land of Neverland, particularly in its depiction of First Nations peoples.
  NUTS’ production of Peter Pan sidesteps this issue, omitting the caricatured Picaninny Tribe from their production. Instead, the play was peppered with scenes of interesting music and dance that served to connect otherwise disparate scenes. This may have been one of the production’s only weaknesses—the scenes did seem rather disjointed and lacking a coherent narrative. The departures from the traditional staging, while refreshing, relied on the audience knowing the thrust of the original Peter Pan in order to fully appreciate them.
  Peter Pan is a fitting beginning to the 2019 NUTS season ‘This is Our Youth’. The focus of the play is the experience of young people as they transition to adulthood. In particular, for a cohort of new ANU students fresh out of high school, Peter Pan revisits the magic of childhood before the relentless tides of assessments and stresses which define studying at Australia’s top university.
  Burgmann law students hailing from Sydney’s North Shore should take note—what do we miss out on in our quest to fill up our schedules and in pretending to be important? Is this growing up or is it a cocoon within which we weave ourselves to stave off our childhood angst and fears as we approach the inevitability of responsibility and adulthood?
  Young people are often subjected to scorn by older generations. We see countless articles claiming that ‘Millennials have killed X’, suggesting that we forgo ‘luxury breakfast items’ in order to afford basic necessities or complaining about so-called traits that we all supposedly share—laziness, self-entitlement, overly-sensitive and arrogance.
  Given the world left to us by older generations, it is no wonder why some children refuse to grow up. Why should they, if their parents and grandparents never did?
  Peter Pan is showing at Kambri Drama Theatre from 24 to 27 April. Times and tickets are available via Facebook.

  Jonathan Tjandra

• Another despot on another wall: an ‘Evita’ review

  February 28, 2019 5:32 pm Comments Off on Another despot on another wall: an ‘Evita’ review

  Very few songs have attained the status of Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina. For many, it’s all they know about Andrew Lloyd Webber’s rock opera ‘Evita’, chronicling the rise to fame of Eva Perón. In Opera Australia’s production of ‘Evita’ at Melbourne’s State Theatre, Tina Arena as Eva Perón galvanises and seduces the audience as she ascends the socio-political ladder of post-war Argentina.
  Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina may seem like a cheesy love ballad, but in reality, it is a chilling masterclass in political manipulation. Arena’s warm tone lulls the assembled crowds into a sense of security, declaring her love for the working class descamisados (the shirtless ones) of Argentina who have just elected her husband, Juan Perón, to the Presidency. Don’t worry, she seems to be saying, I have kept my promises to you and will never leave you. It’s filled with meaningless platitudes.
  And it’s certainly true that the people should not cry for Eva Perón. The truth is they should be crying for themselves and how they allowed Eva to prop up her husband’s corrupt regime.
  The song is a classic example of hortatory, where the nation is addressed directly by a singer to undergo a course of action specified by the singer. Apparently, all you need to capture the heart of a nation is determination, stunning dresses, and ruthlessness.
  ‘Evita’’s stage is sparse, and it marks a return to Hal Prince’s original staging, with a giant screen projecting newsreel-like images and footage of Eva adding a sense of gritty realism to the show. The staging is Brechtian, with props and set pieces being moved in full view of the audience between scenes. Revolving doors, revolving beds, and a game of musical chairs all serve as metaphors for political machinations and manipulation.
  In a way, this choice accentuates the ongoing narrative that fame and fortune rest on an elaborate but tenuous web of manipulation. Just as theatre audiences are manipulated into suspending their disbelief, so does Eva Perón enchant the whole nation with her charm.
  Instead, the focus is on the detailed costumes, accentuated by brilliant lighting. Eva’s costumes evolve as she evolves, from a polyester print dress as a lower-class teenager, ever-increasing complexity as we see her climb the pecking order, to a white ball gown as she stands on the balcony of the Casa Rosada, and finally to simple black dresses. The working class, the upper class and the military are easily distinguished by their uniforms, at least until their clothing is stripped from them and they become indistinguishable from all the other poor unfortunate souls.
  Lighting designer Trudy Dalgeish and sound designer Shelly Lee make excellent use of the State Theatre’s space. The scaffolding, dark lighting, and floor panels work together to create an almost rock concert-like vibe, reflecting across the emptiness of the stage. The use of spotlights draws our attention away from the unsavoury elements of society and focusses it all onto Eva.
  We follow Eva as she tours Europe, winning over much of the public there. In the song Santa Evita, she even takes on the mantle as Mother of all the children, workers, and oppressed of Argentina. In this scene, she transcends the confines of any mortal illusion and becomes deified, projected on the stage as the ultimate idol and worshipped by her followers. By this point, she had probably even convinced herself of this delusion. She starts a foundation dedicated to fulfilling the dreams of the poor voter, but is she also helping herself to the funds as well?
  Kurt Kansley plays Che, the narrator, guiding the audience through Eva’s life story. Modelled off revolutionary Che Guevara, he makes it his mission to dispel Eva Perón’s illusion and to demonstrate she was not worthy of the outpouring of public mourning and hysteria.
  At the end of her life, Eva’s public appearances were short, and her failing body had to be supported by bodyguards, and later on, an intricate wire contraption. Even as she dies, she has to maintain her illusion.
  Even in modern times, the media is a powerful tool used by politicians and celebrities to manipulate the public into voting for them, whether it be through labelling dissenting views as fake news or by silencing their critics. It’s very revealing that Donald Trump loves ‘Evita’. Perhaps he feels a connection with the story of a celebrity-turned-politician engaged populist techniques to mobilise the oppressed masses against the corrupt elite.
  Eva Perón uses her status as a celebrity from radio dramas to manipulate the voters who are angry at the establishment. But even though her husband is elected, she never gains the respect of the upper classes. It is her political overreach and an attempt to run for vice-president that sparks a backlash against her influence over the populace. However, even still, she maintains a vice-like grip as the masses genuinely adore and worship her.
  The end of the musical mirrors Eva’s end – no final martyrdom, no glorious triumph, not even a flashy musical number. Just an embalmed corpse in a coffin, silent mourners, and the lingering afterimage of fame and power. These are the hallmarks of a legacy propped up by extravagant illusions.

  Jonathan Tjandra

• NUTS’ The Importance of Being Earnest is a crowd-pleasing success.

  April 26, 2018 6:15 pm Comments Off on NUTS’ The Importance of Being Earnest is a crowd-pleasing success.

   
  The National University Theatre Society’s (or NUTS) latest stage production is The Importance of Being Earnest. This faithful adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s classic work sees Marni Mount making her directorial debut. The timeless production had many reliable laughs, which were all aided by the excellent execution by the cast and crew.
  For those who aren’t familiar with the play, it follows the shenanigans of Jack Worthing and Algernon Moncrief as they both adopt the name of Earnest at various times to their own advantage. Written and set in the late Victorian era, the play satirises the social conventions and structures of the day, including class and marriage. I was already familiar with the play, so it was quite enjoyable to watch as newcomers reacted at the various twists and turns: there were even some audible gasps at the final reveal!
  The best review for any comedy comes in the shape of the audience response, and with this in mind this production is a roaring success. The laughs and cheers were frequent, and the audience seemed thoroughly engaged throughout the two and a half hour performance time (including interval). It is amazing to see how a play first performed in 1895, and with a focus on outdated social obligations, can still connect with modern audiences. It is not that there are pervasive themes that are necessarily relatable in the 21st century, but rather the enduring wit of an icon such as Oscar Wilde continues to be humorous to this day. Some of the comedy even finds a new source of humour, which is best exemplified by Algy’s disgust at the thought of being sent to Australia.
  The acting was all-around wonderful. However, the stand out for me was Dylan Van der Berg’s Algernon, whose comedic timing was spot on. Cameron Allan’s marvellously over-the-top portrayal of Lady Bracknell also received a great deal of laughter. Claire Holland was excellent as the butler Lane, also getting lots of laughs through her delivery of limited dialogue.
  The staging was simple but effective, with a clever set up even allowing two sets to be utilised at one time. The prop work was also well done, considering the large amount of tea drinking and sandwich eating taking place.
  While there was nothing particularly new or different about this production, sometimes it is best not to tamper with a classic such as The Importance of Being Earnest. The quality of the production is a testament to the director, Marni Mount, who did a wonderful job in her first time in the director’s chair. In short, this was a faithful adaptation of a very high standard, and for anyone looking for an enjoyable evening of comedy, I would recommend getting a ticket before they sell out.
  NUTS’ The Importance of Being Earnest is on at the Gorman Arts Centre on the 25-28 April. Session details can be found on the production’s Facebook event.

  Josie Ganko

• Paper Cuts, Or A Cut Below

  December 24, 2017 2:03 pm Comments Off on Paper Cuts, Or A Cut Below

  Paper Cuts may be a charitable celebration of local Canberra talent, but makes for a frankly painful two-hour runtime.  The night was described by emcee Jasper Lindell as a ‘theatrical book launch…or is that a book launch with theatre?’ This comment aptly summarises the identity crisis faced by the production.
  Kirsty Budding, a familiar figure in Canberra’s theatre community, has published a 36-piece collection of ‘comedic and satirical monologues for audition or performance.’ This production features almost all of them. The audience was presented with 30 (!!) whimsical monologues, with topics ranging from ‘man waits a long time for wife to get ready!’ to ‘grandma gives sex advice!’ to ‘law students!’ While the material is decent, each piece is very similar tonally – the skits began to run into each other by monologue number 17, as the audience was hit by the same beats over and over and over again. Observational humour can only stand on its own for so long: by an hour and 20 minutes in, I was fidgeting.
  In fairness to Budding and her actors, the night only fell flat due to the format of the show. Paper Cuts is intended to be a resource for actors of all ages, and not something read cover to cover. The night could have shone if it was framed more explicitly as a book launch, with a handful of performances to demonstrate Budding’s efforts. It’s difficult enough for the song and dance of uni revues to retain audience attention over a two-hour runtime. Being presented with 30 slight variations upon ‘light-hearted humour rooted in realism’ tests even the most patient of audiences.
  Indeed, the actors delivered their pieces well across the board. There were sweet moments, genuinely funny peaks, and some stand out performances. Phillip Mackenzie was endearing as an earnest old bloke going after Gertrude in the retirement home; Jaslyn Mairs gave an incredibly crisp performance in ‘Bitch’; and Cameron Thomas was a knock out in the closing stand up number. Individually, there was nothing wrong with the performances. It was only taken as a whole that the night was a slog – the audience was left overwhelmed, feeling like a drained judging panel after witnessing hours of auditions.
  At the end of the day, the production simply isn’t worth the $25 door charge. While the actors should be commended for their individual efforts, and Budding congratulated for her publication, the overlong format of the night ultimately let down their work.
  Paper Cuts was performed at the Canberra Theatre Centre until Saturday 23 December. The paperback can be purchased for $20.

  Jack Foster

• Love/Chamberlain: Two legends cross paths in a quirky exploration of womanhood

  November 10, 2017 11:01 pm Comments Off on Love/Chamberlain: Two legends cross paths in a quirky exploration of womanhood

  ‘Stop buying protein powder to fill the void – you are the void’ – life advice from an oracle.
  Bridget Mackey’s Love/Chamberlain is a deliberately unsettling play about two women who have been accused of murder. Courtney Love, once the wife of Kurt Cobain, and Lindy ‘dingo ate my baby’ Chamberlain meet in a timeless realm on the Federal Highway, searching for an oracle. The play plots out some theoretical ‘possible meetings’ of the pair across time and, while it’s hard to keep up if you don’t know both of their timelines, you do see how the possible relations between these two women.
  There are some truly weird scenes intertwining the lives of the two characters. Throughout the play we see Lindy Chamberlain playing the airplane game with her prison meal and then we watch Courtney Love vomit morning sickness on Lindy’s shoes before playing the guitar. Some strange motifs accompany these weird moments –  Lindy keeps smelling rotten flesh, Courtney flips between wanting to talk about Kurt Cobain. But none of it really makes sense. Lindy and Courtney don’t meet on the highway until about half way through and while we see some genuinely good moments – such as those in the monologues – it takes a while to get going.
  This show adds flavour and complexity to the profiles of these two women, both who received similar treatment from the media and public. You can tell it’s a show about women, made by women. We particularly see this element in the portrayal of Lindy Chamberlain. The play showcases Lindy’s relationship with her children, the public, the church and, most profoundly, herself. I would love to see Love/Chamberlain focuse more on Lindy’s journey as a Seventh Day Adventist, frosty-fruit loving vegetarian, who finds peace in silence and learns to roll joints in prison. But Courtney Love’s tantrums, obsession with fame and her angsty-adolescent demeanour quickly pulls you out of these wonderfully complex moments.
  The whole show is tied together by an ‘oracle (in various guises)’ – an omnipresent shape-shifter who participates in both these women’s lives. The oracle acts as a quasi-narrator and ultimately spends the whole show provoking and disturbing both women. Honestly, at times the character felt unnecessary. However, Barb Barnett’s acting in this role is superb and pulls off a range of characters wonderfully – from a background mumbling, to a journalist, petrol station owner, paparazzi photographer, music producer, psychic and car crash victim. Barb keeps the audience engaged, even when any hope of finding a plot in the show seems to be fading into the distance.
  All in all, if you want a show that has time travel, angst, a stage formed of shredded newspaper and a musical number, then this may be the show for you. So long as you are willing to sit back and go along for the ride.
  Love/Chamberlain is on at the Gorman Arts Centre until 11 November.

  Amelia Richardson