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Heart Dot Com

9 Oct

I’m not much interested in romantic love.

And I’m not a reviewer.

I write about what plays make me think and feel.

I’m not particularly keen on evaluation. Sure, there’s a place for it. But it smacks of the early stages of a relationship. Before real love develops.

Heart Dot Com deals exactly with that stage.  The ‘desperately hoping someone will find us lovable’ stage. There’s much humour in this – and the deepest of all sadnesses.

And it’s all wonderfully distilled in this multi-artist project. Writers Luke Carson, Ellana Costa, Jasper Marlow, Katie Pollock and Alison Rooke have created characters who itch with desire and ache with loneliness.

From her extraordinary ensemble (Felix Gentle, Paul Hooper, Madeleine Jones, Tim Reuben and Randa Sayed) director Olivia Satchell elicits performances that are both funny and moving. And Satchell’s staging is beautiful – simple and poignant, and the final image is an affecting portrait of shared isolation.

Ok, despite my initial statement, there does seem to be an awful lot of evaluation in this response.

Or is it just affection? Affection for a piece that explores what just might be a universal – the desire to be loved.

I’m not much interested in romantic love.

It won’t save us.

Real love is the connection with all beings, and the wish to limit their pain and help them flourish. It proceeds from the realisation of the strength of their desires and, as a result, the depth of their vulnerability.

And theatre like this is the perfect place to rekindle – or begin – that real love affair.

Veronica Kaye

Heart Dot Com

TAP Gallery until Oct 14

http://www.tapgallery.org.au/2012/09/heart-dot-com-a-multi-playwright-project-directed-by-olivia-satchell-october-3-14-7pmoct-714-5pm/

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Grimm tales

13 Sep

On the way to Grimm Tales last night, I stopped off for a drink with a friend at a little atmospheric bar.  Glass of wine in hand, he leaned towards me in the soft light, and said that I reminded him of ……an Old Testament wisdom writer.

I don’t care what people say, I don’t think anyone looks good in mood lighting.

Feeling as old as Methuselah, I arrived at TAP Gallery, and was uplifted.

Grimm Tales is a collection of the stories of the Brothers Grimm engagingly adapted by Carol Ann Duffy and Tim Supple. The directors of this production, Sepy Baghaei and Ava Stangherlin, have created a show that’s inventive and fun. The cast deliver vibrant performances.

The Grimm Brothers were not wisdom writers. They were collectors. Fired by nineteenth century romanticism and its insight that in a radically changing world much was about to be lost, they collected European folk tales. Despite the sanitized versions most of us know, the original stories (and here we get something much closer to the original) are wild old things; violent, passionate and (many would argue) morally dubious.

The received wisdom is that stories, all stories, are our attempt to impose meaning on the otherwise random nature of Life. They are attempts to force Life to fit.

But I left last night’s production musing on exactly what it is that stories do. To say they impose meaning is such a violent image, and one that reveals bad faith about the great human experiment. Sure, the subject matter of stories may be violent, but is story making itself violent? Spiders spin, birds sing and we tell stories. Are our stories a battle against Life? Or are they our natural birth right?

Veronica Kaye

Grimm Tales

Adapted by Carol Ann Duffy and Tim Supple

TAP Gallery til Sat 15th

http://2012.sydneyfringe.com/event/theatre/grimm-tales

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The Case of Katherine Mansfield

12 Sep

Often, when actors claim something is truthful, you hear this quite disconcerting sound. If you were to try to describe it, I guess you’d call it a ‘rolling’.

It’s my eyes, rolling back into my head.

Ok, it’s not just actors. We all suffer from this temptation: the desire to express undeserved certitude.

When we declare something to be the Truth, often we’re simply attempting to ensure that things are viewed in a particular way. Our declarations of Truth are political actions, shaping perceptions of the world, and so the world itself, to our advantage.

Perhaps this is an overly dark vision of humanity. In it, the opposite of Truth is not falsity, but honesty.

Honesty is an openness to doubt and to less than pleasant truths about ourselves. It’s a commitment to further enquiry and to representations of reality that aren’t merely self serving.

Honesty is a virtue. Its twin sister is courage.

Katherine Mansfield was an unflinchingly honest writer. She was also a courageous writer. To observe, and acknowledge, the injustices we commit and the suffering we endure is not just a skill. It’s a moral act.

The Case of Katherine Mansfield by Cathy Downes is compiled from Katherine’s writings. A mixture of published and unpublished words, the piece is incredibly moving.

If there was a challenge to presenting text that wasn’t initially written for the stage, Downes and director Ashley Hawkes have more than successfully overcome it.

In this production Katherine is played by Rosanna Easton. Katherine Mansfield is extraordinary. Rosanna Easton is extraordinary.

I cried. I nearly sobbed.

(It’s been a long while since I’ve sobbed at the theatre. And that time my mother relented and bought me another choc top.)

To be affected by this piece you don’t need to have read any Katherine Mansfield beforehand. But you’ll want to read some afterwards.

Honesty comes from making close observation, of others and of yourself. It’s an acknowledgement that little things can matter. It’s an appreciation of the value, and rarity, of small kindnesses. It’s an acceptance that, sometimes, the divine is in the detail.

Veronica Kaye

The Case of Katherine Mansfield

13, 14, 15 Sept

Mr Falcon’s 92 Glebe Point Road

http://2012.sydneyfringe.com/event/theatre/case-katherine-mansfield-cathy-downes

I want to sleep with Tom Stoppard

5 Sep

I don’t, actually. I’d settle for a warm handshake. And a little intellectual conversation.

So I don’t want to sleep with Tom Stoppard. Toby Schmitz on the other hand…..

I saw a preview of this show. But as many artists know, every performance is a preview. The real action happens later, in the audience’s hearts and minds. Perhaps in the foyer afterwards. Perhaps in the car on the way home. Perhaps when we next choose to replace a harsh word with a soft one, or a simplistic explanation with a gentle smile of bafflement.

I want to sleep with Tom Stoppard is replete with knowledge about the biz and that’s part of its charm. It’s well aware of the theatre world’s foibles, and of the many challenges faced by artists.

Schmitz’s script is clever and very engaging. There are some great situational set-ups and plenty of terrific one-liners. (In some circles, the one-liner is denigrated. It’s not part of naturalism’s doctrine;  it allows characters to be as intelligent as the artists who create them. And that’s a dangerous heresy, for how then would artists be special? )

Director Leland Kean has cast well and elicits winning performances from the entire team. I found Caroline Brazier as the actress (sic) particularly poignant.

Now, everyone’s a critic. Except me. I write about what plays make me think. (For the audience every performance is a preview.)

And what did I want to sleep with Tom Stoppard make me think about?

Early in the play the question of the value of theatre is aired. It then remains suspended in the play’s atmosphere, a thin mist but one impossible to avoid, regardless of the personal stories that unfold.

Of course, the question ‘what is the value of theatre?’ contains a category error. It’s like asking ‘what’s the weather pattern of Wednesdays?’ There’s no such pattern.

There is no ‘value of theatre’. There’s nothing so distinct and clear and unassailable that can transcend the flurry and fuss of life. Sometimes, at their weaker moments, artists would like there to be. Then their challenges – and they are many – would be easier to face.

But whatever value there is in theatre is dependent on too many variables, the audience being one. For every performance is a preview……

Veronica Kaye

I want to sleep with Tom Stoppard

Bondi Pavillion til 22nd Sept

http://rocksurfers.org/

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Blood Pressure

28 Aug

At times of acute stress I’m prone to foolish thoughts. Might a debilitating accident get me out of this? Could a shocking diagnosis suddenly absolve me of all responsibility? The hospital bed has a seductive simplicity.

Theatre that explores death can be escapist.

In asking ‘how are we to die?’ it can avoid an even greater question – ‘how are we to live?’

I have felt this at times, reflecting on plays about euthanasia. They frustrate me in the way that horror films often do.  They can be built on the premise that before the “monster” everything is dandy. There’s nothing to question. Life, with its myriad of possibilities, is a ‘given’.

Blood Pressure, a cleverly constructed two hander by Mark Rogers, asks us to consider the effect of sickness and death on the healthy. And director Sanja Simic draws top performances from Wade Briggs and Alexander Millwood.

There’s no greater isolation than that of the sick, and we will all die alone. But Life is a group activity, and every death diminishes us.

In this powerful piece, as one man faces the inevitability of his brother’s fate, a simple starkness gives way to a deeper insight: that none of us will experience our own death; it’s what we leave to others.

And it’s with that ‘given’ that we must determine how to live.

Veronica Kaye

Blood Pressure

til Sept 1 Old Fitzroy Theatre

http://rocksurfers.org/2012/04/blood-pressure/

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Vernon God Little

17 Aug

What do we value? Success? Glamour? Notoriety?

Based on the novel by DBC Pierre, and adapted by Tanya Ronder, Vernon God Little is a satire on all that’s crass, trash and shallow.

Director Louise Fischer has cast wonderfully – these incredibly vibrant actors have created a world of bold, bright, fun characters.

Poor Vernon, played marvelously by Luke Willing, is their hapless victim.

A lot of satires pull down – there’s always plenty of healthy demolition work to do. But this one also builds, offering a passionate plea for compassion.

But can I talk of one more value? It’s neither pilloried nor promoted [directly] in the script, but informs the whole production. That value is exuberance [or, perhaps more accurately, EXUBERANCE!!!]

There’s extraordinary energy on this stage, a beautiful vitality.

It is tempting to think honesty is found only in understatement. That quiet is somehow truthful.

But we all come kicking and screaming into this world – or that’s how it should be. And if Life doesn’t continue to shock us, surprise us, confront us – ravish us – then we’ve made an unholy, unhealthy peace with it.

It’s a strange expression ‘larger than life’. Life will always stretch to fit.

How high is the sky? As far as you can see.

Veronica Kaye

Vernon God Little

New Theatre til 15 Sept

http://newtheatre.org.au/

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StoryLines Festival

17 Aug

Why do we put on theatre?

If it was to make money it’d be an odd choice. Many of us would do better as lawyers, or selling mobile phones, or even waiting tables. Hey, you might even make more washing windscreens. It’s a lucky enough country that you could almost live on that. And lucky enough that most of us don’t need to try to.

So why do we put on theatre? It’d be easier not to. It doesn’t just happen. It can be like herding cats.

And don’t give me that crap about theatre being the most natural thing in the world. “All the world’s a stage” is just professional myopia. To footballers all the world’s a game. To risk assessors all the world’s an accident waiting to happen. To fishermen all the world smells of fish.

We put on theatre because we’ve got something to say. That something can be as sad and shallow as I didn’t get enough attention in my childhood and so I want it NOW.

Or it can be a gift.

Suzanne Millar’s StoryLines Festival is a beautiful gift. By giving voice to a range of minority cultures, it’s a timely sharing.

I was lucky enough to see A Land Beyond the River and Junction, two plays by Justin Fleming that are part of this festival. Both pieces were brought to stage by some marvelous performances.

Junction is a symbolic piece exploring the concept of responsibility. We make the world, it says – a dreadful dazzling duty.

A Land Beyond The River employs the conceit of a university production of To Kill a Mockingbird. It features the moving personal stories of three African refugees.

Here’s my memory of my favourite section [apologies to the very talented Justin].

You’re black, someone says to one of the African Australian actors. You should play the role of Tom Robinson.

And so he does – but, for a man faced with hanging for a crime he didn’t commit, a trifle too exuberantly.

WHAT was that? Can’t you understand the extraordinary prejudice Tom has suffered?   Couldn’t you be, I don’t know, more…. cowered?

I could try, I guess, replies the recently resettled refugee, but right now I feel like I’m the luckiest man in the world.

That is the beautiful gift: That we acknowledge our good fortune. And share it.

Veronica Kaye

StoryLines

Bondi Pavilion til 25 Aug [A Land Beyond The River and Junction til Aug 17]

http://rocksurfers.org/2012/04/story-lines-2012/

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Punk Rock

12 Aug

This is not a review. I don’t write reviews. But I do try to stick to the “no spoiler” convention. But, this time, I won’t. So please stop here if you don’t want to know what happens in the final third of the play.

Punk Rock is brilliantly directed and performed.

But I wish I hadn’t seen the last two scenes. I wish they’d been edited from the play. I wish the behavior they present was edited from life. And, on this last point, I’m not sure who’d disagree.

I wish I had read a spoiler before I’d seen Punk Rock.

The play raises questions like “Why do people commit horrific acts of violence?” and “How can horrific acts of violence be prevented?” It’s said that it’s not a playwright’s duty to supply answers.

It is, however, mine.

So here we go:

Question:  Why do people commit horrific acts of violence?

Answer: They do evil who have evil done to them.

Question: How can horrific acts of violence be prevented?

Answer: Don’t commit any violence yourself. (And lobby for greater gun control.)

Question: Glib and simplistic?

Answer:  Let’s try it and find out.

And I think that’s what the play says (though not the bit about the gun control; at least not overtly).

pantsguys’ production of Simon Stephens’ play is harrowing. I wanted to walk out. I dislike violence on stage. But I prefer it there to anywhere else. And this play says, in no uncertain terms, let it stop here.

Veronica Kaye

Punk Rock

season extended til 18 Aug

http://www.atyp.com.au/under-the-wharf/productions/punk-rock

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A Hoax

2 Aug

There are two types of play – the ones journalists like, and the good ones.

Journalists like the unusual, the uncommon, the bizarre, the perverse.

The other type of play – the good play (or while I’m being facetious, the type of play liked by good people) – the other type of play is about everyday struggles and the magic found in the mundane. It is about the audience.

Journalists like the angle. The aberration they call a story. Let me give an example; “Journalist finds angle” is not a story because it’s what always happens. “Journalist displays depth” would be a story.

By ‘journalists’ I don’t mean career journalists. There are many eking out a living in the media who aren’t journalists by habit. And there are many of that habit who aren’t paid at all, except in the ever decreasing wages of titillation and cynicism.

Rick Verde’s play A Hoax is funny and engaging. Director Lee Lewis elicits wonderful performances from her entire cast.

But is it just a ‘journalist’s’ play? It tells the story of a fabricated memoir. And the story of those who turn a blind eye to that fabrication in order to profit from it.

These are journalistic concerns. They titillate the audience, feed its cynicism and then can be dismissed. “Nothing to touch me here.”

Or is there?

Telling a fabricated version of a life is not so uncommon. We all do it – as we build our sense of who we are. [Reading this post didn’t you consider whether you’re a ‘journalist’ or not?]

And in regards to profiting from stories, everyone can ask themselves “Why do I bother communicating?” Why do I write? Why do I speak?

“I’m only being honest,” says the bully, with that little “only” the clue that honesty is hardly her purpose.

It is naïve to think we communicate primarily to tell the truth. “Pass the salt” is far more typical, and meaningful, than “That is the salt”. Truth maybe crucial but it is always secondary. We speak, we write, to impact on the world. Sometimes we simply want more of its money. Sadder still, sometimes all we want is the approval of others.

But we can speak to make the world better. And play that reminds us of this is a good play.

Veronica Kaye

A Hoax

at Griffin til Sept 1

http://www.griffintheatre.com.au/

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The Liar’s Bible

6 May

I had trouble knowing what to write about this play. I don’t evaluate productions. I discuss what they make me think about. But this production didn’t make me think about anything. Or not anything in particular. At first.

The Liar’s Bible by Fiona Samuel is a set of intriguing interconnected contemporary stories. It’s as though the writer, in casting a wide net, is hoping to catch as much of life as possible.

Or is the point the net itself?

Many of the characters are story makers; a poet, a filmmaker, a philosopher, a woman trying to discover her personal history. They are characters attempting to structure the unstructured perplexity of life.

So this is a story about stories? And so the great philosophic problem of the endless regression opens up before us like facing mirrors, in which we see a reflection of a reflection of a ……

For here am I telling a story about a story about telling a story. And now, dear reader, you are telling yourself a story about me telling a story about…

There are two solutions to this problem that I know; the sardonic or the ironic.

The first is to close your eyes to it, by acknowledging it only blandly.

The second is to accept it fully – and the feeble inability of our thoughts to master existence – and laugh.

And the play encourages this with a heap of funny lines and heartfelt moments. Julie Baz’s production is engaging and she elicits some good performances from her cast, in particular Paul Armstrong and Mark Langham.

I did have trouble knowing what to write about this play. But I enjoyed watching it.

Veronica Kaye

The Liar’s Bible

Sydney Independent Theatre Company til 19 May

http://www.sitco.net.au/

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