Tag Archives: NIDA

Everyone Knows I’m a Pervert

16 Jun

You might argue this is a prime example of the Theatre of Audacity.  You could argue it asks to be valued because it surprises and shocks. It has us say of the actors I can’t believe you stood in front of people and did that! (I’m contrasting it to the Theatre of Authenticity, which asks to be valued because of its veracity and honesty. It has us say of the actors You made me believe that was true.)

Everyone Knows I’m a Pervert by Taylor Fernandez playfully tells the story of Chastity, who accidently shares a saucy email with all her contacts. I wasn’t sure why this was such a problem, since Chastity also writes an erotic blog called The Vaginal Chronicles. (I’m guessing the Chronicles are anonymous – but the pace is so intense and the exuberance so stupefying, I think I missed that point of exposition.)

The show is certainly fast and furious, and ninety minutes long. (In the style of much of the humour, I can suggest it needs a good edit … a good, long, HARD edit.)

Directed by Beatrice Blackwell, the cast (Jenny Guigayoma, Jade Fuda & Jake Walker) totally commit to high-energy performances.  

In suggesting the show’s audacity, rather than its authenticity, I have a few caveats.

Firstly, the show presents a poetic (by which I mean life-affirming) Truth. But more on that later.

Secondly, very few of the sexual acts mentioned by the characters are perversions. They’re not uncommon acts, and they’re certainly not taboo. What is in our society? There’s only the illegal. (I think one such act was mentioned.)

Perversion is, of course, in the eye of the beholder, and I guess that’s the point: Chastity suffers guilt about things she really shouldn’t. To compensate for this guilt, she wades in even deeper, like Macbeth when he says “I am in blood stepped in so far, that, should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o’er” – except for the fact Shakespeare’s tragic hero goes on to actually do things. Chastity just talks about doing things.

And, thirdly, the way she speaks about these acts is revealing. Chastity talks of sex as merely mechanical pleasure. The utter absence of intimacy is tragic, and this sadness is the truth of the piece; the pity, the poetry.

Paul Gilchrist

Everyone Knows I’m a Pervert by Taylor Fernandez

Presented by NIDA in association with bAKEHOUSE Theatre Co.

At KXT until 20 June

kingsxtheatre.com

Image by Laura Elaine

Cadaver Synod

3 Jun

Written by Ruby Blinkhorn, this is bold, exhilarating storytelling. 

It’s set in the Vatican of the 9th Century CE, it’s inspired by historical events, and it’s original Australian work!

Thank God for the refreshingly cosmopolitan audacity of this creative team.

(By the way, a good historical drama is almost enough to make you believe in God. The soul-enriching assumption that an audience will connect with characters who don’t live in the contemporary world is akin to the belief that all humankind is a single family, the members of which are to be both loved and pitied – a sentiment beautifully expressed in the well-known religious phrase We are all Children of God.)    

Not that this production asks you to believe in God. (But more on that later.)

Pope Stephen is being pressured by more worldly authorities to condemn the corruption of his predecessor, Formosus. The exact details of the demanded condemnation are nothing but shocking: Formosus must be exhumed and his corpse put on trial. Understandably, Stephen is somewhat reluctant.

It’s a universal tale: Can evil be resisted? (Nb the passive voice. But more on that later.)

The piece is replete with the anachronisms endemic to the genre. Some are historical, made for the sake of simplicity (like the positing of a King of Italy or the poverty-stricken-but-still-literate orphan.) Others are linguistic (phrases like OK, We’re good? and Let’s wrap this up) employed to narrow the gap inherent in the sharing of a story set in a foreign country over a millennium ago. Other anachronisms playfully generate recognitional humour (like the sense that the discussions in the 9th Century Vatican were uncannily like modern corporate meetings.)

There’s plenty of laughs. Much of them come from delightful reversals of expectations as the supposed holy men indulge in language and behaviour that doesn’t match the moniker. Occasionally the piece threatens to diminish into farce (or even satire – more on that soon) but there’s a serious story here, and Blinkhorn brings it home powerfully.

Under the direction of Mathew Lee, the cast give captivating performances. As Stephen, Nat Jobe offers a riveting portrait of moral determination, lamb-like gentleness and naive idealism, presenting this fraught mix so that his emotional suffering becomes utterly convincing. As young Gabriel, Leon Walshe gives us an innocence so complete it’s frighteningly oblivious to danger, and all the more heartbreaking for that. As the Machiavellian John, Luke Fewster is all smooth talking smarm and ominous machinations. Yasna Delo as Lucia, voice for the worldly authorities (and for herself), is suitably waspish. Diego Retamales’ Brother Abraham is a terrific comic addition, all huffs and puffs that leave him hilariously unaware of the stakes. As senior cleric Paul, Mark Langham provides both wry humour and vital gravitas; it’s a performance that helps lift the piece to grandeur.

The end of the story is perhaps too quick, and the steps in Stephen’s final journey too close together, but enormous, crucial questions are raised.

Stephen’s spiritual experience is framed entirely in terms of Faith. And it’s Faith in the way Modernity conceives it: as an unwavering loyalty to an unverifiable vision of Life. I suggested the piece was in danger of slipping into satire, and Stephen’s response to the suffering of the aforementioned orphan is a prime example. He doesn’t seem to be much of a doer. But Paul, one of his brothers in Christ, denounces him very clearly and passionately for this very fault.

It’s worth noting that when Jesus of Nazareth was asked to sum up the law and the prophets he reportedly focussed, not on Faith, but on Love. “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment. And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these.”

And Love is not some fuzzy feeling – and it’s certainly not a belief. Love is a doing. Stephen seems to have tragically forgotten this.

In the context of the culture wars of contemporary society, this thrilling piece reminds us we must not privilege attitude over action.

Paul Gilchrist

Cadaver Synod by Ruby Blinkhorn

presented by NIDA in association with bAKEHOUSE Theatre Co

at KXT on Broadway, until 6 June

kingsxtheatre.com

Image by Robert Catto