The Approach

27 Aug

It’s like the old gag:

My brother thinks he’s a chicken.

Then you should get him put away.

I would – but I need the eggs.

Written by Irish playwright Mark O’Rowe, and first produced in 2018, The Approach is about relationships. This might seem an absurdly naïve thing to say; after all, isn’t that what all drama is about, it being the artform best suited to exploring how we relate to each other?

But this work is fascinating in its seeming simplicity and focus. Through only a series of tete-a-tete conversations between friends, it forefronts our desire for human connections, despite the pathetic inadequacy of so many of these connections. It’s La Rochefoucauld, without the exuberance he derived from cynicism. The relationships portrayed in The Approach are filled with grievances, resentments, dishonesties and envies, and are maintained by characters who struggle for self-awareness, and who would probably choose to live without these relationships if they could.

Some people might suggest this is simple Truth; theatre at its most beautifully realistic. Perhaps. I’m not sure calling it Truth isn’t merely the romanticisation of garden variety misery. But, if it is, who am I to complain about how others cope?

It’s a finely wrought play, eighty minutes of tight, engaging writing. Director Deborah Jones keeps the production splendidly sparse, allowing her excellent cast to shine.  It’s a joy to witness Linda Nicholls-Gidley, Lindsey Chapman and Sarah Jane Starr present these characters, like watching sunlight glimmer through the discarded pieces of a broken stained glass window. I use this ostentatious simile deliberately: the play presents a world in which individuals have seemingly lost the ability to look up.  There’s one particularly poignant motif: a fourth character, who we never meet, who climbed a nearby mountain and lit a fire. In rich ambiguity, this serves as both a powerful image of troubled flight, and of the desperate need to go beyond.

Paul Gilchrist

The Approach by Mark O’Rowe

At Flight Path Theatre until Sept 2

https://www.flightpaththeatre.org/

Image by Abraham de Souza

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The Turn of the Screw

29 Jul

Ghost stories are not about ghosts; they’re about fear. They ask what makes us frightened and what type of safety we crave. They also ask when is fear natural and beneficial, and when is it irrational and dangerous.

Richard Hilliar’s adaptation of Henry James’ classic novella is funny, fascinating, frightening, and entirely engaging.

Ostensibly, it’s a ghost story and, as director, Hilliar works multiple theatrical elements to create a deeply creepy atmosphere. Set, sound, lighting, costume and performance all combine together brilliantly to establish this mood. (Set designer Hamish Eliot deserves special mention: the creation of the late 19th century house and its surrounds is extraordinarily rich.)

Adaptation is a tricky business. The audience will always slot into two distinct categories: those familiar with the original text and those who are not. Though there have been dramatizations before, I would think James’ novella stubbornly resists the form, being so dependent on the subjective psychological experience of the protagonist. The original novella is in first person and the protagonist is the archetypal unreliable narrator. (Here she is played by Lucy Lock with affecting horrified bewilderment.) The achievement of the original text relies on silences, both deliberate and contextually determined. James’ narrator doesn’t tell us certain things, either out of self-interest or from lack of self-knowledge. And James himself, working at the end of the Victorian era, was presumably reluctant to spell out the more confronting possibilities latent in his tale. Hilliar’s version is much more explicit.

It could be argued that James’ novella is the culmination of the gothic, a tale in which the external supernatural and the internal psychological collapse into one. After The Turn of the Screw, modern horror developed because the genre had nowhere else to go.

But Hilliar creates a play and a production that engages in a fascinating conversation with the original, as well as being a deeply intriguing work in its own right.

Paul Gilchrist

The Turn of the Screw by Richard Hilliar (after Henry James)

presented by Tooth and Sinew and Seymour Centre

at Seymour Centre until Aug 12

www.seymourcentre.com/event/the-turn-of-the-screw/

Image by Phil Erbacher

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The Hero Leaves One Tooth

25 Jul

The myth of a vagina equipped with teeth has been with us for quite a while. The myth functions in several ways. It expresses the male fear of women, their dangerous allure, their power, the fact that the sexual act radically changes the participants. It also expresses the female desire for safety, the longing to secure themselves from sexual assault.

I don’t want to oversimplify; if the meaning of the myth was obvious and indubitable it wouldn’t be a myth, but merely a parable or fable, or even a truism. Myth works well in drama because it invites reflection rather than reduces to sermon.

And Erica J Brennan’s take on the myth of vagina dentata warmly invites reflection. Brennan reworks it as speculative fiction, imagining the phenomena to have occurred to most contemporary women. How we would navigate this concrete physicalization of our subconscious fears and desires?

Brennan sets the action in a dinner party, the archetype of privileged normalcy, and lets the characters attempt to make sense of it all. Their dialogue is stilted and sparse, evocative of the challenges of the new world in which together they find themselves, but also of the deep troubling internal darkness that alone they’ve always inhabited. Director Cam Turnbull effectively ramps up the sense of dislocation by slowing the pace. Lighting designer Jasmin Borsovszky also powerfully disrupts any illusions of a comfortable reality with unexpected and haunting variations. The addition of clever, catchy songs by Jake Nielsen further subverts complacency.

The cast do some good work. A highlight is Kira-che Heelan, as Neeve, offering an engaging performance that marvellously mixes the horror, the despair, the anger and the hope. Claudia Shnier’s Sasha is beautifully and provocatively part conniving minx and part feminist warrior, and all vulnerable human being, as she attempts to cope with forces much larger and more ancient than herself. David Woodland’s Mark, in his desperate, bumbling attempts to make connections despite the world’s brutality, is a splendidly sympathetic everyman.

The Hero Leaves One Tooth is like a gem dragged up from the underworld; deliberately only half-polished, it glimmers and shines while still suggesting the darkness from where it came.  

Paul Gilchrist

The Hero Leaves One Tooth by Erica J Brennan

Presented by Ratcatch Theatre in association with bAKEHOUSE Theatre Company

At KXT until 29 July

www.kingsxtheatre.com

Image by Clare Hawley

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Pitchfork Disney

24 Jul

Fun and endlessly fascinating, this play deliberately resists easy interpretation.

A descendant of the absurdist comedies of Beckett, Philip Ridley’s Pitchfork Disney takes a simple scenario and posits it as a symbol of the human condition.

Presley and Haley, brother and sister, live alone. Perhaps they’ve been abandoned by their parents? They’re fearful of the outside world and their diet consists exclusively of chocolate. But Presley and Haley are not children; they’re adults, reduced to a childlike state by the absence of an authoritative world view. In a pathetic attempt to establish some sort of meaningful vision of Life, they tell each other their nightmares, retell outlandish stories, and recall a past when Mum and Dad provided a secure centre to their existence. Ridley’s genius is the conscious use of cliché and allusions to consumer pop culture to evoke the malaise of modern meaninglessness.

Into this closed world comes Cosmo Disney, a two bit entertainer who makes a living by supplying his audience with a “daily dose of disgust.”  In a world devoid of higher purpose, at least fear and repulsion are constant.

Director Victor Kalka does wonderful work with this classic of modern theatre, creating a space in which imminent threat and comic exuberance play chicken.

The cast is exceptionally strong. Jane Angharad as Haley is magnificently vulnerable, her childlike physicality and her delivery of Ridley’s evocative monologues a delight. James Smithers as Presley, onstage through virtually the entire production, gives a virtuoso performance; doubt, bravado, terror, reluctance, desire, wonder, all brilliantly brought to life. Harry Winsome’s Cosmo is a beautifully disturbing portrait of self-serving confidence, operating both as a foil to the two adult children he impinges upon, and granting insight into the unexpected ways in which moral emptiness manifests itself. James Hartley provides a terrific cameo – of which the spoiler rule reduces me to silence – except to say it’s both powerful and hilarious.  

Paul Gilchrist

Pitchfork Disney by Philip Ridley

presented by Virginia Plain

at Meraki Arts Bar until 5 Aug

meraki.sydney

Image by Clare Hawley

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Teenage Dick

22 Jul

Teenage Dick by Mike Lew is a brilliant play and director Dan Graham’s production is superb.

Lew takes elements of Shakespeare’s treatment of Richard III and places the action in a modern American high school.

Like Shakespeare’s Richard, Lew’s protagonist has a disability that pushes him to the periphery. Both characters respond by focusing on the pursuit of power. Shakespeare was clearly exploiting the Elizabethan fascination with the Machiavellian villain, and Lew’s play makes that explicit: the students are asked to discuss The Prince. Is it better to be feared than loved?

Dean Nash as Richard is absolutely magnificent, a mesmerising stage presence. (I suspect Richard Burbage, the original Richard in Shakespeare’s company, would be thrilled by what Nash does.) Graham provides Nash with a wonderful supporting cast. Chloe Ho as Anne Margaret offers a deeply moving portrait of vulnerability. Rocco Forrester is terrific as the self-obsessed school jock, Eddie. Holly-Jane Cohle’s Buck is gloriously no-nonsense wit.  Amy Victoria Brooks, in a performance both hilarious and disturbing, nails the hapless teacher, Miss York.

The character names evoke Shakespeare’s play and, if you’re familiar with the Elizabethan text, the conversation between this play and the earlier one is intriguing. But no knowledge of Shakespeare is required.

This is an extraordinarily timely play. We live in an era in which some of us so passionately strive to right previously unacknowledged injustices that we valorise rage and grant ourselves moral holidays. Richard desperately wants power because he’s so denied it, but are the means he chooses defensible? Are they even effective? This play does what theatre is made to do: honestly present the fracture lines in our vision of Life.

Shakespeare called his play a tragedy. Lew’s extraordinarily powerful final scene leaves us asking if his is too.

Paul Gilchrist

Teenage Dick by Mike Lew

Presented by Flight Path Theatre & Divergent Theatre Collective

At Flight Path until 5 August

flightpaththeatre.org

Image by Andrea Magpulong

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Off The Record

20 Jul

I’m loving New Theatre‘s commitment to new work.

Chris Aronsten’s Off The Record was shortlisted for the 2021 Silver Gull Play Award and here it is on New’s stage. (New Theatre deserves congratulations for continuing this award – as does whoever initially established it.)

Off The Record is a fun comedy that deals with serious issues.

In some ways, it’s a curious example of contemporary Australian writing; for instance, it’s set in contemporary England.

There are laughs aplenty, but there’s also a powerful exploration of what it takes to blow the whistle.

Corporate heavyweight Tony has done wrong. Employee Janine and TV journalist Jenny seek justice for the victims. But Jenny is an alcoholic and Janine is … well, eccentric. (Tony complains – and perhaps I paraphrase – “You can’t call a woman crazy anymore.”)

Director Jess Davis’ cast deliver wonderful performances. Michela Noonan as Jenny magically blends sass and vulnerability. Suzann James’ Janine is both very funny and very moving. Belinda Hoare as Jenny’s AA sponsor has a magnificently truthful delivery; simple, honest and raw. Joe Clements as Tony gives a suitably disturbing portrait of pompous privilege.

The script has some intriguing absences. Tony’s sin is outlined but (fortunately) not shown. His guilt is never really up for question, but is what he’s done a crime? Or is it an abuse of power? Abuses of power are not automatically illegal. (Perhaps this was all clarified and I simply missed it.)

The other absence is the victims. They remain off stage.

The result of these creative choices is that the whistleblowers, flaws and all, are placed front and centre. And what we get is a beautiful portrait of what it is to do right, to try to do right. To make a better world, saints are not required. We’ll do.

Paul Gilchrist

Off The Record by Chris Aronsten

at New Theatre until  5 Aug

newtheatre.org.au

Image by Bob Seary

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Ladybird Ladybird

3 Jul

Though fiction, this is theatre that bears witness. (Of course, all theatre does – in a way – but it’s not all that it does.)

But bearing witness is certainly a focus of contemporary theatre making. We’re keen to present what we believe are under-represented voices.  

Ladybird Ladybird by Linda Nicholls-Gidley bears witness to the often unacknowledged suffering of many women, both before they give birth and after. In powerful images and in script built from deeply affecting monologues and insightfully sharp dialogue, we’re presented pain both physical and mental.

Director Anthony Skuse and designer Henriette Gabreal give the characters a simple, stark, stepped stage. There’s nowhere to hide; there’s only climbing to do – an almost Sisyphean image of pain unending.

Supported by a very capable cast (Leilani Loau, Danielle Stamolous and Silvana Lorenzo de Shute), Nicholls-Gidley’s performance as the protagonist, Veronica, is brilliant. Her control of both the language and physicality is outstanding. Veronica’s suffering elicits tears and offers no consolation.

Absent from the stage is Veronica’s husband. This absence highlights his personal culpability, but also functions as a potent symbol of the patriarchy’s deliberate obtuseness regarding the challenges of motherhood.  

But another provocative consequence of Nicholls-Gidley’s decision to people her story with solely female characters is to challenge any superficial faith in the sisterhood. Veronica’s mother and supposed friends oscillate between making narrow unsympathetic judgements and offering glib unwanted advice. It’s the brutality of this portrait that gives the piece a soul-stretching veracity, that asks us – all of us – to listen more closely, more openly, to the people in our lives.

And theatre that does that, has done a wonderful thing.

Paul Gilchrist

Ladybird Ladybird by Linda Nicholls-Gidley

Produced by Vox Theatre

at Flight Path Theatre until 15 July

flightpaththeatre.org

Image by Becky Matthews 

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Benefactors

23 Jun

Michael Frayn’s Benefactors is a beautifully rich play and Mark Kilmurry’s production is superb.

Set in late 60’s England, it’s a comic four-hander presenting the changing dynamics of two marriages.

Colin and Sheila live near David and Jane, but visit so often it’s as though they live with them. It’s an old dramatic trick, the juxtaposition of two couples so they compare relationships, and we do too.

This comic exploration happens in the foreground of architect David’s plans for a housing development. An old grey district will be torn down, to be replaced by two whopping towers

Frayn directly references Ibsen’s The Master Builder and overtly connects the building project – its hubris, its hollowness, its hope – with other human ambitions. Of course, it’s a literary conceit dating back to Genesis, to the unknown writer who crafted the story of the tower of Babel. Frayn is working in a grand tradition and does so magnificently, offering humour and deep insight.

Kilmurry and his team know they have a gem to work with and they make it shine. Gareth Davies’ David is a gorgeous mixture of narrow obsession and gentle-heartedness. His final line is gold. Emma Palmer’s portrait of Jane is fascinatingly complex: a sharp, intelligent woman, brave enough to acknowledge her bewilderment at the workings of time. Colin, played by Matt Minto, is a delightfully provocative concoction of arrogance and perceptiveness. Megan Drury, as Colin’s pitifully perplexed wife Sheila, delivers a performance both hilarious and deeply moving.

The world is imperfect. What do we do? Accept the flaws? Tear everything down and start again? Or do we beaver away, slowly attempting to rehabilitate what we have? And, whatever our decision, time flows on, washing away some of the old problems, while ever depositing new ones.  

Benefactors is both a wonderful evening’s entertainment, and an invitation to return to further explore its extraordinary richness.  

Paul Gilchrist

Benefactors by Michael Frayn

at Ensemble until 22 July

ensemble.com.au

Image by Prudence Upton

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Rabbits on a Red Planet

18 Jun

Rabbits on a Red Planet (book by Andy Leonard and Irving Gregory, score by Ryley Gillen) is a sci-fi satirical musical. It’s wonderful to see a new Australian musical on stage. Congratulations to the producing company and Flight Path Theatre.

Following environmental degradation (and possibly other hijinks), giant mutant rabbits are wreaking havoc across the planet. In response, and in the hope of big profits, tech billionaire Rob Muskas (Leonard) funds the alteration of the Martian environment to enable human habitation. Light and fun, the piece satirises a range of intertwined contemporary issues: the appalling impact of colonialism; the bull-headedness of both conspiracy theorists and those who deny crises; the lack of empathy for those seeking safety; environmental irresponsibility; and the self-seeking nature of capitalist ambition. In all this, there are some good laughs and valid points.

Gillen’s score is entertaining, and “King of Mars” (performed by the ensemble with Leonard as lead) is particularly catchy. Isabella Kohout and Jenna Wooley have exceptionally beautiful voices.

Having so many elements, musicals are an especially ambitious form of theatre, and in this production the lyrics and the dialogue – both content and delivery – could do with some sharpening.

But theatre is not space flight; when you get it wrong, no-one dies.

We just don’t get to visit new worlds.

(So, I guess, theatre is like space flight.)

Paul Gilchrist

Rabbits on a Red Planet (book by Andy Leonard and Irving Gregory, and score by Ryley Gillen)

at Flight Path Theatre until 24 June

www.flightpaththeatre.org

Image by Anthony Stone

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Consent

10 Jun

This is a marvellous play presented by an extraordinary team.

As the title suggests, it’s based on crimes of sexuality, both what is illegal and what is too little or too large for legislation. (The law is a net we drag through the ocean of reality; the small slips through the mesh, the large tears it asunder.)

Nina Raine’s Consent is built on serious conflict. Not the type of conflict where two characters fight for the same thing, whatever that random thing is: the farm, the man, or dominance. No, it’s conflict born of those unfathomable fissures in the human condition. Sometimes, when we’re particularly brave or clear-eyed, we acknowledge that our deepest held values might be at odds with each other; that it might not all fit together. (It’s sort of the Gödel’s Theorem of values.) It’s what Hegel expressed in the line “Genuine tragedies in the world are not conflicts between right and wrong. They are conflicts between two rights.” In its reference to the great Greek tragedies, Consent makes explicit this type of tension.

But this is a contemporary play set in modern London. It contrasts the need for a legal system with the unavoidable limitations of a legal system. And, in asking which way justice, the play presents the battle between empathy and logic.

It interrogates empathy’s disturbing whole-heartedness. Sure, we must listen to the victim, but as is said in the play (I paraphrase) If you’re hurt enough, you become stupid.

Also explored is the troubling relationship between the valorisation of empathy and the desire to make others suffer the same pain we have felt. Empathy and revenge are perhaps closer cousins than one might imagine.

But rationality won’t necessarily save us either. The conflict between the letter of the law and its spirit is age-old, and legal logic can be especially pedantic. As one character points out, if you were to come across that sort of pedantry outside a courtroom, you’d naturally assume the speaker was disingenuous.   

The play also asks us to consider the difference between I’m sorry and I apologise, and to compare repentance with forgiveness. This isn’t semantics, it’s a genuine gift for the soul.

The play’s construction emphasises the inevitability of conflicting perspectives, with the stage sometimes split into two parallel and contrasting scenes. Likewise, the characterisation asserts complexity. Characters we initially despise will shine with unexpected goodness, and vice versa.

And under Craig Baldwin’s direction, the absolutely terrific ensemble present beautifully rich performances. Anna Samson’s Kitty is magnificent, offering both real heart and a glimpse into its darkest chambers. Nic English, playing her husband Edward, gives a superb portrait of cold intellectual arrogance and the emotional confusion it hides. Jeremy Waters’ Jake is wonderfully narcissistic, until he is gloriously, and so truthfully, not. Jennifer Rani, playing his wife Rachel, portrays magnificently that type of justified resentment that arrests moral growth. Anna Skellern’s Zara positively floats with exuberance until it’s punctured by betrayal. Sam O’Sullivan’s Tim is an eminently watchable combination of uncertainty and strength, a performance that captures the physicality of doubt and the verbal virtuosity of conviction. Jessica Bell as Gayle is a splendid working class counterpoint to all these privileged professionals, But Gayle is also a victim of rape, and Bell encapsulates perfectly both her incandescent rage and aching vulnerability.

Life is hard. Life is complex. Maybe we can’t make it all fit together. But we’re in it together. Consent is a deeply humane play, brilliantly presented.

Paul Gilchrist

Consent by Nina Raine

At Seymour Centre until 24 June

presented by Outhouse Theater Co

seymourcentre.com

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