Comments Off on Women are Great: An ANU Women’s Revue Review
Women are funny, talented and incredible.
That was my overwhelming thought walking out of the inaugural ANU Women’s Revue ‘Lady and the Trump’, showing at Gorman House. An all-female-identifying production and new initiative of the of the ANU Women’s Department, this show takes on both the amazing and not-so-great aspects of being a woman in our world – flipping and exaggerating them in due course to show how funny the scenarios that women come across daily really can be.
This is a show that makes you forget about how the messed up ways women are
treated in our society sometimes, and instead throws you into a world where those messed up things still exist – but the show combats them with positive female friendship, fanfiction, and exuberant dance numbers.
From the opening number, ‘Circle of Strife’, the multi-talented cast kept up a joyful and incredible amount of energy through what must have been exhausting physical comedy over the three-hour show.
Directed by the talented Elizabeth Page and Laura Emerson, who contributed their individual acting skills to some of the funniest moments of the night, particular highlights included the takes on reality television phenomenon in ‘Political Bachelorette’ and ‘Friday Night Fights’. There were audible gasps of astonishment in the audience when Musical Director Ella McNiece broke into song in ‘The Daily Life of a Woman Online’. The recurring sketches such as the ever increasingly ridiculous micro-sketches ‘Kids These Days’ and ‘VC Update’ had the audience so hyped that they were laughing in anticipation before the characters had even said a word.
I was in awe following Zelie Appel and Kayla Ciceran’s dense monologues in ‘Minimalism’ and ‘How Can We Be Lovers’, respectively, with the audience being pulled more and more into the surreal world that the cast created in front of us.
The band, seated onstage throughout the show, was perhaps underutilised and could have added some momentum to some skits that dragged minutely. A standout moment highlighting the versatility of the musicians was the use of the cajón in the classic Wonderwall take, ‘Great Sexpectations’ – accompanying Jayne Hoschke and her, well, passionate backup dancers – and this versatility had a lot more potential to be used during other skits.
We, the audience, received constant reminders that there is a certain catharsis in the creation of skits based on familiar life experiences – emphasised through the pure energy and joy that flowed out of the cast members.
The downside of featuring a cast so incredibly hilarious is that at points they couldn’t help but laugh at themselves, but who can blame them?
I left with the renewed understanding that women are not flawless or perfect – they are unfiltered, allowed to be vulnerable, and have a complexity of wit in understanding themselves that makes shared experiences through comedy so heartwarmingly relatable. Women are great and immensely hilarious, and the women of the ANU Women’s Revue cast whole-heartedly left me with the reminder that having no shame in who you are is the best way to be.
Comments Off on No Objections To This Year’s Law Revue
Law Revue 2017, To Infinity and Beyond Reasonable Doubt, was out of this world funny (bear with me, I wanted a better space pun, but didn’t have time to planet). Directors, Al Thorne and Maddi Lamers, with Producer, Olivia Sparrow, started us off with a Robbie Williams medley, reassuring us that there are no legal jobs, many unpaid internships, long hours and that law’s a crock. But never fear, by the end of the first song, it was Beyond Reasonable Doubt that the cast could throw in their Scarlett Gowns and Gavels to become professional thespians.
With the usual format of small, succinct musical skits, the performance led us flying in all directions. All those worrying about their lack of legal knowledge need not steer clear. Having taken a lawyer along with me for good measure, we quickly found that much of the humour revolved around the ANU experience, with sprinklings of law puns orbiting around the edges. The skit LAWS4EVERY1 gave some witty observations on first-year tutes, with a sea of puffer jackets and MacBooks, as well as the classic lecturer who prescribes their own book (available from the Co-op in week 10, of course!). As well as this, the Black Box Recording sketch had everyone gasping for air and wiping away tears of laughter when that god-forsaken ‘copyright in these lectures is property of the ANU…’ came blaring through the speakers.
But for all those lost in space amongst the thought-leader jokes, asking ‘what’s a Chifley?’ there was plenty of other material. From a romantic Marxists Christmas story to a Gorilla taking on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, there was something for everyone. Not to mention the Sandwich Sketch… keep ‘em guessing!
As for acting, in the past we’ve seen many students shoot for the moon and miss it by a mile, but this year was an amazing effort by all. Special mention should go to Alex Merrick for a hilarious (and scarily accurate) Tony Abbott impression while guiding us through the history of his love of Onions. And when it came to the singing and dancing, Sarah Whiting showed us some serious flare.
The stage lighting was also flawless, which is no surprise when lighting technician, Stephen Still, just celebrated his 20th year working on the show.
All in all, Law Revue was an incredibly funny and tight performance, which left me wanting more. Despite its surprisingly low ratio of space puns to space content, this show receives one very enthusiastic small step for man (and an even more enthusiastic leap for mankind), which roughly translates to five stars (what d’you know, those are also space related). Bravo!
Comments Off on The People Speak at the Street Theatre
$20 / 2 September
What do you want to talk about? That’s the first question at a Talkaoke. Mikey Weinkove explains that the pop-up talk shows he hosts may start with a theme (for example, what’s in the news) but the discussions must have an open agenda.
Talkaokes are just one of the projects that The People Speak run. Other projects include The People Film, Unlecture and One Night Grandstand. However, the same ethos applies to all these projects: getting people (often strangers) to speak and listen to each other.
The idea of an open agenda underlay The People Speak’s event at The Street Theatre showing this week. Mikey starts with a slideshow explaining Talkaokes and other projects that The People Speak run. However, the presentation quickly becomes a discussion guided largely by the audience.
Someone asks about how the local governments, theatres, museums and other institutions that commission Talkaokes feel about keeping the agendas open. Don’t these institutions have their own criteria that they think the Talkaoke should address? They’re just one more person at the table, Mikey stresses. If they have something that they think is worth addressing, they need to bring it to the table.
This brings us to the Talkaoke table itself. It’s custom made, altered over the years per the rigorous testing of different techniques and designs. It’s doughnut shape means that everyone who comes to speak is on the same side. The host sits in the middle, slightly lower than everyone else.
Mikey talks about the challenges of getting people with different backgrounds and different personalities to listen to each other. There are two rules: no fighting and no singing. If someone is dominating the conversation, one of the best ways to get them to shut up is to encourage them.
Is it difficult to get people to speak to you when you set up the Talkaoke table on the street? Yes, at first, Mikey says. But, once you have enough people, others are drawn in by human magnetism.
He shows us pictures of Sikhs crowded around the table in Birmingham; Muslims and non-Muslims in conversation after the Manchester bombings; speaking to young, white men in Lancashire about Pakistani immigrants. He tells us that one of the hardest Talkaokes he ever hosted was when all the participants were environmental activists, each blinkered by their individual project.
Over the years, The People Speak have developed techniques to foster an open conversation. These are all available on their website, and The People Speak encourage other groups to try them out.
The People Speak are at the Street Theatre this week as part of the Segue Festival. On Wednesday, 30 August, they’ll be running The Slice is Right. Participants will be divided into groups and given a political system. Within this system, they must design the best pizza they can.
On Saturday, 2 September, Who Wants to Be? will challenge participants to collectively decide how to spend $2000 (really, not just speculatively). Will it be spent on beer? Or will it sponsor a refugee? Or fund a new skate park?
In late-August, warm nights are a distant memory for Canberrans. Thermals, layers and beanies during the day means that by the evenings, few locals are willing to brave the chill and leave their homes.
Luckily there are events like The Slice Is Right to warm us up. The premise is straightforward: each table makes three pizzas. The method of construction of each pizza will be made according to a kind of political system. The idea behind the event? To get us seriously thinking about different political systems and their pros and cons in a setting which is fun and engaging.
When we sat down at our table we weren’t really sure what to expect, and neither were our team members (a common reason for attending was ‘I saw the word pizza on the event promo’), but we were soon launched into the game.
Mikey Weinkove led the evening with a contagious sense of fun and enthusiasm and guided us through the first round. One member from the table picks a political system card, the table makes the pizza following instructions on the card. Making the pizza involved six stations: base, sauce, cheese, meat, vegetables, extras.
Sounds simple? Not quite. Although some cards (‘Autocratic: The shortest player makes all the decisions’) streamlined the pizza-making process, other cards (‘Dynamic Consensus: All players must agree on each ingredient’) made the process longer. Our table got very hungry when we drew the Bureaucracy card which involved submitting double-sided forms not unlike the ACT grant forms which were then passed on to a panel of experts to review before they decided on the pizza which was to be made. The winner? The proposal which had us singing as a group during the entire pizza-creating and pizza-consuming process.
The pizza, wine and comfortable atmosphere of the Street Theatre venue was accompanied by a room full of friendly people who were there to have fun and make new friends. What made the event so exciting was that the players really got into the game. Our table, upon drawing the Colonial card (the Autocratic leader decides the ingredients which will go on the pizza, a slice of the pizza is delivered to the leader) became fed up when the leader declared her slice of pizza be adorned with gourmet ingredients, whilst ours be ‘economically’ sprinkled with pepperoni, and announced a revolution.
At the end of the night, we were asked to consider what would a utopian pizza look like. One audience member used this moment to shockingly confess she doesn’t actually like pizza. Others in the room seemed quite set on self-determination of toppings, which, although not necessarily a step towards a new, utopian political system, might be a more radical acceptance of those who choose to include pineapple on their pizza.
Bring: That first date you’ve scored and a sense of enthusiasm.
Comments Off on 1984’s Dystopia Made Chillingly Tangible
$45 student tickets | 101 minute runtime, no interval | closing night 29th July
Warning: this play contains very loud noises (including gun shots), bright and flashing lights, and simulated violence. Some audience members may find scenes distressing. The play is unsuitable for any viewers suffering PTSD or epilepsy.
1984 is a brutal, mesmerising production. Robert Icke and Duncan Macmillan have created a tightly choreographed masterpiece of an adaption. They conjure the deeply unnerving essence of Orwell’s dystopic vision without getting bogged down in the details of an exact reproduction. Through disconcerting repetition and fleeting figures in the wings, the audience joins in Winston’s maddening sensation of self-doubt. Meanwhile, abstract visions of the future derail the familiar narrative of the novel, displaying a contemporary relevance to our hyperconnected online society.
The play is an incredibly visceral experience. Curtains rise on a claustrophobic room eclipsed by an enormous screen, and the scene framed by a menacing metal lattice of lights and speakers. Winston – and the audience – are painfully pulled from scene to scene by blaring tannoys and blinding lights. More than simple shock, however, the play excels in building tension and suspicion until the inevitable climax. Winston’s torture in Room 101 is chilling, and the psychological abuse is heightened by what is not shown in moments of terrifying blackness. Terence Crawford excels as the all-powerful O’Brien in this traumatising sequence, and Tom Conroy’s breakdown as Winston is uncomfortably real. Indeed, the entire Australian cast of nine is excellent throughout the play.
The most gripping element of 1984 is its metatheatrical experimentation. Slowly, and with mounting horror, the audience realises the invasive nature of their voyeurism. We are the faceless party: under O’Brien’s watchful eye, Winston dies loving the audience. ‘Thank you,’ he utters, and curtains drop to thunderous applause.
The audience is Big Brother. And, together, they are totally consuming the life of a dissident as a night of entertainment. People laugh at the jokes that Winston and Julia make under the false assumption that they are finally free of observation. People ignore Winston’s harrowing plea for help at the height of his torture – ‘Someone stand up! Do something! Don’t just sit there, help me!’ We peer and pry into every facet of this thought-criminal’s life and we cheer when he is finally reformed.
1984 closes on the nauseating realisation that the audience is collectively responsible for the normalisation of insidious and dehumanising corporate powers. Beyond anything else, Winston’s graphic torture emphasises the uncomfortable implication that we have wilfully transmuted the authoritarian surveillance state into something sleek and palatable. You leave the theatre with an acute awareness that Big Brother is not only watching you, but that you are encouraging him.
Jack Foster
War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength. Literature is theatre.
Recent political controversies over freedom of speech and government surveillance makes George Orwell’s 1984 feel frighteningly relevant. It’s no wonder, then, that sales of his magnum opus have hit record heights.
This all hit home to me watching the State Theatre Company’s adaptation of 1984 at the Canberra Theatre Centre – a production which, I feel, could not have come at a better time.
The play is as stirring as you would expect. When I entered the theatre on opening night, I was warned by surrounding screens to expect graphic content, bright lights, pyrotechnics and sudden noises. I was not disappointed – at least not in these effects.
The play relies heavily on the audience having read the book before stepping into the theatre. A recurring gimmick involves the running commentary of a book group debating Winston’s position as fact or fiction – a distinction underlined by Orwell’s initial story. On one hand, this is a clever approach. The book so cleverly blurs the line between fact and fiction, so why shouldn’t the theatrical adaptation think outside the box? The result, although effective, does make the plot very difficult to follow for someone unfamiliar with the story.
Central elements of the novel are dulled down in the play. The impossibility of conveying an inner monologue without a voiceover means that these defining aspects like the power of ‘doublespeak’ are not given justice onstage. These themes are sacrificed for an eerie motif of looping scenes that create a sense of déjà vu and abrupt scene changes to disorientate the viewer. Winston Smith lives in a continuous present where everything is repeated and nothing is concrete or lasting, this is so well captured to the point that it almost feels nightmarish.
The play is nothing if not a multi-sensory experience. Sounds, pulsing lights and camera angles play to the audience throughout the production. I found this insistence to be so repetitive that the blinding lights and deafening noises stopped being jarring and, personally, just ended up being annoying. Still, the production proved to be admirably restrained in depicting violence, preferring to rely on imagination rather than gore.
As someone who worshipped this book and thought it should remain untouched, I was always going to be difficult to please. I would consider this play to be an extension of Orwell’s masterpiece rather than a version of it – a study in what is permanent and what can be swept under the rug. Rather than chronicling the story itself, Icke and MacMillan explore the sensory aspects of time, truth and madness. It is disorienting, confronting, fascinating and, yet, completely worthwhile. Is it enjoyable? Not in the common sense of the word. But, it is an experience unlike any other, and one I would highly recommend.
Alex Elgue
$35 student tickets | 80 minutes runtime, no interval | closing night 29 July 2017
The Street Theatre’s production of Nick Payne’s Constellations sets an incredibly high bar for itself. It promises ‘an unmissable, universe shifting show that will challenge how you see life, and change how you live it.’
Unfortunately, Payne himself does not reach these lofty heights. His script is an ultimately disappointing subversion of the rom-com, in which contrived twists and shallow punts at profundity mar any attempt at providing perspective on life’s choices. Yet, under the able direction of Caroline Stacey, The Street makes diamonds out of coal. Through excellent performances and outstanding technical work, Stacey transforms an average script into an engaging night at the theatre.
A surreal sensorial experience engulfs the audience from the moment they take their seats. Lights twinkle behind an abstract, multileveled set – all acute angles and enormous flat planes. The alien surface is bathed in a shifting grid of harsh lights, evoking the whirring innards of a computer and the urban grime of a subway station. It is ingenious lighting design, creating an immersive journey through to the final backlight winking out of existence.
The play itself is less inspiring. Payne structures his work around a series of significant moments in the universal boy-meets-girl story. Each of these scenes – the couple meeting, their first fight, the proposal – is iterated before the audience’s eyes as the play explores the possible consequences of every choice to our voyeuristic delight. The premise is dripping with potential. Each vignette becomes clear through an intertextual awareness of genre with the audience’s perceptions informed by the tropes they expect. Yet, what could have been a metatheatrical exploration of free will and existentialism – couched within an infinite multiverse – is often painfully contrived. While there are several nice moments, with the play’s dark themes well balanced by timely humour, Payne’s point is undermined by a lazy twist. Ultimately, Constellations tries too hard to be profound.
However, this is almost irrelevant to the enjoyment of the evening. Constellations’ cast of two is nothing less than exemplary, presenting the audience with effortless yet elegant performances. With the same moments played out, again and again, the play could easily devolve into an awkward audition tape of alternate readings. Instead, Lexi Sekuless shines as the quantum physicist Marianne. She deftly leaps between infinite permutations of identity, from charmingly innocent to world weary, to cold and antisocial. Kristian Jenkins keeps pace as the down to earth beekeeper Roland, complementing the energetic Marianne with more subtle shifts in behaviour. Together, the two delicately tread their way through a recurring script while constantly keeping the audience engaged. It is a testament to their abilities that the two-hander performance never becomes boring.
Inspired production carries these strong performances. Kyle Sheedy constructs an elaborate, layered soundscape to compliment the performances of the two leads, and emphasise Payne’s musings. The central conceit of the play – ‘imagine rolling the dice 6,000 times’ – is used as an auditory motif, the rattle of dice at once thunder, the clink of glasses, a projector flicking through slides, each signalling a shift between possibilities. Equally, Owen Horton’s lighting design provides a vivid, surreal vehicle for the director’s vision. Abstract under lighting supports stylistic blocks hanging above the set, which serves as everything from storm clouds to fluorescent hospital lighting. If Payne’s message feels tired, at least every aspect of the production work is fresh and exciting.
Don’t watch Constellations for its script. It takes late night reflections on the meaning of life and puts them through the rom-com wringer in the hope that something beautiful will emerge – hope that is unfortunately dashed by a contrived twist. Like Marianne, Payne struggles to enunciate the ideas he explores and squanders the metatheatrical opportunities of his premise. However, weak writing does not detract from a solid night of entertainment. Watch Constellations for the incredible performances of Lexi Sekuless and Kristian Jenkins, who present a masterclass on precise, subtle, effortless acting. Watch it for Imogen Keen’s phenomenal set design, and the sensory visions conjured by Kyle Sheedy and Owen Horton. The quality of The Street’s production lifts an underwhelming script towards something truly stellar.
Comments Off on Finding Dignity: An Exploration of Mental Illness Through Bharathanatyam
Back in October 2015, I remember sitting with my mother at a table in a hawker centre enjoying some fabulous local Singaporean food when she mentioned an idea that she had; she wanted to create her own dance production. My mother has been dancing Bharathanatyam – a major Indian classical dance that originated in Tamil Nadu – since the age of 12. But she didn’t want to follow the traditional, Hindu religious and spiritual themes that typically characterise Bharathanatyam. Instead, she wanted to capitalise on what she saw as the art form’s potential in raising awareness about mental illness among the Indian community in Singapore where stigma surrounding mental health is prevalent. My mother, Lalitha Venketasubramanian, got in touch with psychiatrists and mental health organisations, as well as choreographers, musicians and dancers to make this happen. Ten months later, her vision finally became a reality.
I had the privilege of catching a 6.30am flight to Singapore on Saturday, 22 October 2016 to witness the final result of months of planning, back-and-forth e-mails and rehearsals. I caught the train from Changi Airport to the School of the Arts Theatre Studio and arrived right on time for the first show at 7.30pm, and left for the airport once the second show ended the next evening. It was a hectic weekend – not to mention the assignment I had due in the middle of it – but it was worth every second.
Finding Dignity focuses on the relationship between a mother and her daughter, who has schizophrenia. Over six scenes, titled, ‘Normal’, ‘Descent’, ‘Denial’, ‘Stigma’, ‘Conversation’ and ‘A New Normal’ respectively, the production follows the growth of the young girl as she navigates the effects of the illness on her life and relationships, and grapples with experiences of helplessness, isolation and ostracisation by friends.
The depth of emotion conveyed through dance brought tears to my eyes. One scene which depicted figures with dark cloths running around the girl as a reflection of her confusion and terror stands out in my mind as being particularly confronting to watch.
The performance is an hour and fifteen minutes in length and was followed on both days by a discussion with psychiatrists and panellists from mental health organisations such as the Singapore Association for Mental Health (SAMH) and Institute of Mental Health (IMH). The audience was given the opportunity to pose questions to the experts about how to support loved ones and provided a platform for common misunderstandings about mental health and illness to be dispelled. I was thrilled to see some familiar faces among the 220-strong crowd, and it was very well-received by those who attended it.
While a success, the performance was not without its issues. In choosing to explore mental illness through Bharathanatyam, the creative team was met with the challenge of maintaining the traditional form of dance as far as possible, without compromising the integrity of the story and message of the production. For example, the depiction of the symptoms of schizophrenia by a woman-identifying character through an art form which portrays women in very specific roles was difficult – but nonetheless navigated well through excellent choreography and creative narration. According to the creator and producer (of both the production, as well as myself), Lalitha: ‘When I came up with the storyline, I was already aware of the nature of Bharathanatyam having performed it for so many years. It came together well because we approached it such that the story flows seamlessly using the vocabulary of the dance form.’
Finding Dignity brings a taboo topic to a specific group of people whom may not have previously considered the importance of mental health and fighting stigma associated with it. While recognising that Bharathanatyam isn’t universal among Indians in Singapore, reaching out to even a small part of society is valuable to the broadening of the mental health discourse and destigmatisation of mental illness. It would also have sparked dance enthusiasts’ interest to the potential of their art in advocacy and making important messages palatable to a crowd which may not engage in protests, which are illegal in Singapore.
The production inspired Lalitha to contribute to efforts to destigmatise mental illness. She is currently working with a group of medical professionals and others to set up a mental wellness organisation catering to the Indian community in Singapore. She would still like to bring Finding Dignity to new audiences and to spread the beauty and versatility of Bharathanatyam while raising awareness of important issues.
Any questions, concerns or ideas about ‘Finding Dignity: An Exploration of Mental Illness Through Bharathanatyam’ can be directed to Sumithri Venketasubramanian (that’s me!) at sumithri.rv@gmail.com.
You would think that if you run with a big, bold story and chuck in an outrageously ambitious set with technically accomplished lighting, that you’d get away with a lot.
On stage, though, you don’t.
Shake + Stir’s Dracula, which is touring nationally after first premiering in Queensland in 2015, is bloody and boring. The script continuously falls flat and there’s little sense that, as a story, it matters.
This is narrative theatre. Bram Stoker’s gothic tale of Dracula, the Transylvanian vampire looking to expand his London property portfolio, transposed into an almost bizarre, post-modern Victorian world.
Sadly, it doesn’t quite work. Dracula plays out in all its Victorian glory: of grand, pressing and urgent concern for the impending threat of immorality descending amongst us. And in doing so, they have produced an old-fashioned performance of entrances and exits, of lines being recited and of plot and action.
No intrigue, no sustained message, no subtlety.
Josh McIntosh’s set with a rotating inner component is very clever and Jason Glenwright’s lighting shows great awareness for the story, and almost makes up for the subtlety the play lacks in its careful approach.
Everyone gives a strong performance, a credit to director Michael Futcher. But the adaptation of Stoker’s novel by Nelle Lee and Nick Skubij, who also appear in the show, is stilted.
In 2013, Shake + Stir brought an adaptation of George Orwell’s Animal Farm to Canberra. In 2014, it was 1984’s turn. Those adaptations – produced by largely the same team – were intelligent, timely and never boring.
In contrast, it seems Dracula is a shift away from that highly physical, highly political, deftly intelligent theatre.
The team has taken on an irrelevant old classic and shown that it’s just that: irrelevant.
Last week Woroni caught up with Caitlin Overton and Felicity (Flick) Anderson – the director and dramaturg of NUTS’ upcoming play ‘The Tempest’ – to ask them a few questions about the upcoming production. The performance will be held at the Black Mountain Peninsula on 12 – 15th of October.
Why The Tempest?
F: The Tempest is one of my favourite Shakespeare plays. Last year Caitlin and I were just discussing ‘plays we wanted to direct one day’ and we began discussing experimenting with plays staged outdoors. I think I just suggested doing The Tempest outside, and Caitlin jumped on board and we started throwing around ideas. I knew N.U.T.S were taking director applications for 2016 and we applied on a whim. N.U.T.S took a chance on us, and now something that was a ‘it would be so cool if’ is now a reality!
C: I’ve always been fascinated by the potential to reinvent Shakespeare for modern audiences, however, The Tempest is a particularly exciting challenge. The Tempest likely represents Shakespeare’s final celebration of the capacity for language to control and mystify as the magic power of words, that inspire one moment and disparage the next, keep this play – as the title hints – in a constant state of flux! The Tempest pushes the limits of theatrical convention, as characters flit rapidly between emotions; cavorting spirits appearing to blur the boundary between the real and imagined, waking and dreaming. No amount of SFX can ultimately compare to the magic of a few words, passed between curious new actors, 400 years since their writing, conjured in the faint sunset on the shores of Lake Burley Griffin. What is magical and ephemeral is embodied by the raw and corporeal, and as such, Shakespeare’s fleeting farewell lives on in permanence.
The performance is outside, how do you tackle this extra element?
F: Lots and lots of preparation, OH&S considerations, and endless site visits trudging around in gumboots.
C: With the help and dedication of a wonderful executive team, led by Producer Kat Carrington, who has cross-checked everything from rain contingencies and the likelihood of blue-green algae outbreaks, to show interruptions by angry wildlife.
As a director, how did you go about uniting the cast?
C: It was honestly a daunting task uniting an oddball band of castaways scattered on different parts of the island for most of the play – but it has been a dream from start to finish. I think it’s important to confront head-on any preconceptions your cast may have regarding the ‘typical’ mode of a Shakespearean actor – you know the sort: melodic voice, flailing gestures of the arms and lots of muttering to skulls – and to establish early in rehearsals a greater scope for negotiation with the text, and an eager openness for any new interpretation the cast members bring. I believe this put us in good stead to create a re-telling that is both vital and unpredictable – as all good theatre should be.
Can we expect a traditional portrayal of The Tempest?
C: Short story – no. Long story – we have opted for a modernised staging of the play that hopes to complement the natural beauty of the site, while highlighting the fragility of our outdoor setting on an unusual stage that features both sand and shallow water. In the play disparate worlds collide, alliances are broken as quickly as they are formed, and perceptions shift mercurially. As the light moves from dusk to nightfall, we hope to blur the edges of the audience’s reality as both characters and audience, reconciling past hate and finding joy in the gloom, leave the island changed. We have experimented with surround sound in the outdoors and engaged in shadow play beyond the aureole of the lights, in order to recreate the iconic storm of the play’s first scenes, let loose disembodied spirits, and conjure frightening illusions. The energy and enthusiasm brought by the whole cast is important, but in particular, the unlikely pairing of the extraordinarily talented Georgia-Cate and Samuel in their portrayal of Caliban, has also allowed us to interrogate both the colonial and gendered aspects of the play with a new vigor.
Why do you think theatre is important?
C: I think theatre represents the expression of a basic human need to mimic, to project stories onto ourselves and others, and to create meaning through narrative. Theatre brings people together, in a collaborative meeting of storyteller and listener, as both play witness to an electric exchange that is never quite the same in each re-telling. From the child mapping farfetched tales in the playground to their grandfather telling long-winded anecdotes at dinner, theatre matters – in essence – because we can’t help it.
F: Theatre is a medium that is too often overlooked as modern life allows us to live life through screens of various shapes and sizes. I don’t deny accessibility to art has increased in capacity since technology, but there’s something magical about being able to appreciate a story performed live. Unlike screen acting, theatre has intense rehearsals – not to replicate the delivery of lines but to build and explore relationships. This means, if you’ve got a dedicated cast and director, things like dialogue come secondary to the organic reliving of the story with each show. No show will be the same as the next, and with this, the audience has this experience of watching something never seen before, and never to be seen again. If that’s not magic I don’t know what is.
Is this your first production as director and dramaturg? How did you find your experience?
F: This was my first chance to act as a dramaturg, despite being interested in the role as a concept for a while (but purely by accident!) Originally we were co-directing, but a family emergency prompted a necessary interstate move and so it was originally a way to keep me involved as I could only be on location up until rehearsals started, and then at the very end. Being a part of the conceptualisation of such an experimental and raw show was constantly humbling as I worked alongside the incredible Caitlin Overton. Being able to focus on the context of Shakespeare and ideas for the show, and letting someone you know is incredibly talented change those imaginings into a tangible show, are both very exciting! I think trust was a huge part of me feeling safe leaving my ‘baby’, and of Caitlin feeling like she had that support when suddenly faced with heading the project solo.
C: This was my third directing venture, but the first time trying my hand at a Shakespearean play in its entirety – so I was naturally petrified. Honestly, I cannot overstate how wonderful it has been to have not only the benefit of Flick’s unending talent and natural curiosity, but her generous support while working on this project, both as Co-Director and now Dramaturg.
What would you like the audience to take away front the performance?
F: I think all too often Shakespeare is pushed aside and underestimated when people are presented with his texts and performances in school settings. I really feel like this production was the product of Caitlin and I’s love of everything Shakespeare’s work is at the core, and everything it has the potential to become. Too often the higher language, or unfamiliar settings, can intimidate those who have certain ideas about the playwright, but one thing that brings me back to Shakespeare time and time again is the people and the stories. When you bring theatre right back to its core, it’s a storytelling mechanism. If people can walk away from this performance having enjoyed a story, then I think we’ve done our job.
Why should we go and watch?
F: If you love Shakespeare, the cast and crew of The Tempest have created a refreshing and compelling take on a classic Shakespeare piece. If you hate Shakespeare, the cast and crew of The Tempest just might change your mind. The outside setting, the honesty and integrity of the acting, and the direction of this play makes it one not to miss.
An annual highlight of ANU’s arts calendar – the Arts Revue for 2016 – went into the arena with the title FUN NATION, responding to the meteoric rise on the political stage of that ginger sheila Pauline Hanson (again). Appropriately, she has been the star of much of the show’s brilliant marketing and has her very own recurring segment in the show. Perhaps the writers and directors – double act Matt Barton and Matt Rogers – should have spent more time thinking about someone else during production, as FUN NATION is a bit too similar to the bogan human torch herself: outrageous, odd (funny) and offensive certainly, but in need of some refinement all the same.
For those unfamiliar with the concept of the Revue, it is essentially a bone-and-flesh Robot Chicken, with some university-specific jokes and musical numbers that parody recent news stories, public figures and the general absurdity of modern life. The main symptoms of many revues (and skit shows in general – such as The Wedge) are of course the problems that arise due to the lack of overarching cohesion across the show. Some witty and well-acted skits are interspersed with dross, and nothing much links them together. This is a problem that FUN NATION possessed, though with a greater strike rate than most revues, as I for one wished for a greater sense of structure. The end result was a waterslide of meme-ish bits that passed by quickly, producing some amusement but lacking in deep impression – which might be just the thing some people were looking for. Perhaps a more apt title would have been FRUS TRATION.
The show’s great strength was in the energy of the cast – there were standouts, with plenty of natural comic timing and some kickass accents, as well as the mostly witty writing. The skit involving the unusual life of the mind of Kevin Rudd during the U.N. General Secretary lark was brilliantly and cheekily conceived, as were the reliably funny digs at the various ANU colleges (poor Griffin) and the merits of studying Law. Some skits, however, either went on past their use-by date or were never edible to begin with, as a meta-moment involving the racial casting of the show was just uncomfortable at best, and some of the staging of the musical numbers was uninspired, though well sung by the cast.
Nonetheless, I can say that FUN NATION did make you chuckle some. Admittedly, seeing a Revue in a packed audience is a whole heap of fun, involving laughing along with your mates to the absurdities on stage, which I am certain occurred over the duration of the Revue’s performances