Why being a reviewer is tough

8 Jul

paul-and-croc (2)

The popular perception of reviewers is that we are superficial, lazy, pompous, careless and shallow.

Being a reviewer is tough.

It’s not all champagne and free tickets.

Firstly, you have so little time. The play may have taken years to write, had oodles of development and months of rehearsal. At most, you have a couple of days. So you seem superficial.

Secondly, you have so little space. A play can last two and a half hours. You can’t expect a reader’s attention for more than five minutes. So you look lazy.

Thirdly, the criteria by which you evaluate the play are hardly universal, are probably idiosyncratic, and are almost certainly not shared by the artists. But the review isn’t meant to be a discussion of you and your aesthetics, so you mention your criteria blandly or ignore them all together. So, you sound pompous.

Fourthly, you really can’t give much away. There’s the taboo against spoilers, but its pretty much true of all the best bits of the play. All your assertions seem unsubstantiated. So you’re careless.

Fifthly, a play has multiple voices. That’s their point, and their glory. You only have one. You’re shallow.

And when you publish the review, trying so very hard to believe honesty is possible, a whole bundle of serious artists read it and think ‘That superficial, lazy, pompous, careless, shallow bitch got free tickets. And champagne. Which we paid for.’

Being a reviewer ain’t easy.

Veronica Kaye

Theatre Red

Let the children keep their paint boxes

7 May

Poorly executed art does little harm. Its flaws are obvious, and its effect negligible. Let the children keep their paint boxes. The crayons need not be hid.

The danger lies in the slick and soul-less.

We should be wary when too many of our conversations about theatre sound like demarcation disputes, performance reviews, price negotiations, quality control panels, courts of petty session and magistrate’s verdicts. 

Only one conversation is vital. And it happens in the desert, when the artist battles with the devil – alone, naked and true – and in that battle forfeits her ego to win her soul.

And tired but free, she returns to the city, and scratched in the dirt if necessary, she offers a vision of the kingdom of heaven.

Veronica Kaye

Theatre Red

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/

The Great Lie of The Western World

19 Apr

Speak softly and carry a big stick. This could be the motto of Cathode Ray Tube and it is exemplified in their latest work The Great Lie of the Western World.

Despite the quiet naturalism, this is theatre going big game hunting.

Call a play The Great Lie and you raise the question ‘What is that lie?’

Is it ‘We are free’?

Is it ‘We are not free’?

I think the second of these – the denial of freedom – is the great lie. It’s a wonderful convenience, absolving us of responsibility and denying the enormous privilege of our lives.

Is this what the play suggests? Who cares? The strength of Alistair Powning and Michael Booth’s script is that audiences will leave asking questions not about the play but about themselves.

The performances are powerful because of their naturalism, which doesn’t always follow for me. I dislike the idea of truth in theatre, and think it’s one of the medium sized lies of the Western World. But this team is incredibly engaging, with Kate Skinner the standout.

See this for the script, the performances, but most of all, see it for the post show discussions. And ask yourself, ask your friends: what are the cultural myths that hold us back?

Veronica Kaye

The Great Lie of the Western World

TAP Gallery til April 29

http://www.tapgallery.org.au/category/shows/

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Breaker Morant

17 Apr

Breaker Morant is a very rich myth. Gareth Boylan’s production of Kenneth G Ross’ play tells it simply and effectively. 

Breaker Morant is a myth about authority. During the Boer War, Harry Morant and Peter Handcock were charged with shooting prisoners of war. A surface reading is that Morant and Handcock were let down by those in power. This is a seductive reading. It makes life easier for anyone who chooses to see themselves as small.

Another reading is that we expect authority to absolve us of personal responsibility.  Morant and Handcock were real people and judgements on their decisions are way beyond my brief. But the play gets dreadfully close to offering the Nuremburg defence – “I was told to do it”. It’s a testament to the strength of this play and production that we can like the characters. Boylan has elicited strong performances from the entire cast, bringing to the fore the question that charges this piece: are the defendants heroes?  

Breaker Morant is a courtroom drama based on real events. I would argue all theatre is – but it’s the audience’s values that are in the dock.

Veronica Kaye

Breaker Morant

Seymour Centre til 21 April

http://sydney.edu.au/seymour/boxoffice/program_breakermorant.shtml

Lord of the Flies

13 Apr

Last night at New Theatre we were presented with a spectacle of brutality and barbarism, a savage world of tooth and claw, barely hidden behind the thinnest veneer of civilization. But then the champagne ran out, and we were all politely ushered out of the foyer and into the street, to continue our revels elsewhere.

Director Anthony Skuse’s production of Lord of the Flies – tight, disciplined, and inspired – puts the lie to William Golding’s myth of the savagery barely below the surface.

Written after the horrors of World War Two and during the Cold War threat of nuclear holocaust, Golding’s novel must have rang true for many people.

This stage adaptation by Nigel Williams doesn’t ask an audience to consider the truth of the myth. The powerful performances from the entire cast make it quite believable.

What is valuable about this play is that it reminds us that the question is not merely “Is this true?” (The only honest answer to which is “who knows, and who could know, humanity’s ‘true’ nature?”)

What a strong production like this does is remind us that the question is also “What is the impact of me believing this myth to be true?” What behaviour is encouraged, what choices are endorsed, by the myth encapsulated in the slogan “All men are born evil”?

As our revels continued elsewhere, this question was discussed, in depth and happily without heat. We were almost civilized.

Veronica Kaye

Lord of the Flies

New Theatre  until 12 May

http://www.newtheatre.org.au

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The Temperamentals

15 Feb

It’s not difficult to make theatre. After all, what is it? Just a bunch of people pretending to be other than they are. Easy. The audience wants it that way.

What is theatre? A seriously silly thing.

No, it’s not difficult to make theatre. What’s difficult is making a difference…. when there’s a bunch of people pretending to be other than they are, and the audience most definitely wants it that way.

Such is the story of The Temperamentals. Jon Marans’ play explores the challenge of political engagement when everyone would prefer that pretence continue.

The Temperamentals speaks of gay rights and responsibilities. It’s about coming out and being counted. It’s about not pretending. 

This is a political play, as all plays are; though some are more honest. Plays that suggest engagement can be avoided, that we can lead lives separate from each other, form a far too large sub-genre – best referred to as “political tragedy”.

Both moving and funny, The Temperamentals is the story of a very brave group of men, and director Kevin Jackson has elicited powerful performances from his entire ensemble.

And as the ensemble “pretend” to be these brave men, we might consider our pretence – that we are satisfied living in a society that does not yet share all rights with all of its citizens.

So what is theatre?

A serious silly thing.

 Veronica Kaye

The Temperamentals

 New Theatre til 3 March

http://newtheatre.org.au/

Best We Forget

14 Feb

Memory, as the saying, goes.

We forget. Which is weird. But not as weird as the fact we remember anything at all.

Best We Forget created by isthisyours?  is fun and thought-provoking. In mock panel discussion style it explores memory and forgetting – with a focus on the latter.

To focus on forgetfulness is like being obsessed with death. Surely the miracle is life? It’s like being most interested in the moments when actors drop lines. “The best part was when he forgot his lines. You know, just after if he found out he’d killed his father and slept with his mother.”

So what is memory? Little unconscious representations of reality? But what is “reality”? And what can it mean to “represent” it?

Which are questions that spring to mind when I think of drama.

Memory as theatre? Theatre as memory?

We are told at the beginning of Best We Forget that tomorrow we will only remember 25% of the performance.

Or maybe it was 35%.

Whatever.

But I’m still thinking about the show.

Veronica Kaye

Best We Forget

Old Fitzroy Theatre   til 25 Feb

http://rocksurfers.org/2011/12/best-we-forget/

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To the Death

6 Dec

There’s something funny about comedy that deals with murder. Or maybe something inappropriate. Telling the tale of the entire human historical experience, it takes the authors of Genesis four whole chapters to get to murder. Maddy Butler, the writer of To The Death, gets there much quicker. But then, the Genesis authors were laying deep foundational myths that explore our greatest hopes and our darkest desires, while Butler is writing about share housing in Sydney.

This is not a criticism. Stick with me. We judge art so it does not judge us.

To the Death is a thought-provoking piece. Butler is well aware of the tendency of fiction to devalue the seriousness of murder. The script plays with the concept and it is the source of  much of the best humour. The play is satisfyingly self-referential. The members of this share household hide their murder plans by the pretence of writing a novel. Making a story out of something horrible, Butler has her characters make something horrible out of a story. And as director, she has elicited amusing sit-com style performances from her entire ensemble.

In a world where children starve needlessly, it is tempting to dismiss black comedy as glib. It is tempting to accuse it of not taking things seriously enough. But we are only delivered from that temptation when we ask ourselves how serious are we about the things that matter. Leaving a darkened theatre and re-entering a darkening world, it is we who face judgement. And, hopefully, from the joy of laughter we will find the strength to face the challenge.  

Veronica Kaye

To the Death

til 11 December
Wednesdays – Saturdays at 8pm & Sundays at 2pm

www.newtowntheatre.com.au

No Man’s Land

24 Nov

One of the characters asks “Does Art make us virtuous?”  The play answers “No.” Clearly.

At least three of the four characters have claims to being literary men, but Art has not helped them. They bully, they threaten, they ignore; they are not good. [Though they are certainly engaging, and wonderfully played by Andrew Buchanan, Peter Carroll, John Gaden and Steven Rooke.]

It’s not the ‘virtuous’ in “Does Art make us virtuous?” that Pinter is exploring. It is the ‘us’.

No Man’s Land is about continuity in character. Its argument is that we’re not all of a piece. Who we are depends on who we are with. Character is fluid. It is formed by power relations.

Once Pinter was asked by an actor about the back history of  a character.  He replied, ‘Mind your own fucking business!’ Not that the past is unimportant. It is – vitally – but as an extension of the battleground that is the present.

This present is dismaying, but oddly uplifting. For if character is not fixed – and Michael Gow leads his extraordinary ensemble through a tour de force of possibilities – than the future could be a different place than both the disputed past and the menacing present.

 The play begins with the down and out Spooner [Peter Carroll] telling Hirst [John Gaden]  “You are too kind.” He repeats it, several times. It remains a lie.

Pinter’s work will not make us any kinder. No Art will. But No Man’s Land reminds us that it’s an option.

 Veronica Kaye

 

No Man’s Land

Sydney Theatre Company, Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House

Until 11/12

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