The 22nd Old Time Music Hall '96 Canberra Repertory at ANU Arts Centre. Direction - Rosemary Hyde. Music - Andrew Kay. Choreography - Jan Carey. Wednesdays to Saturdays May 30 - June 29, 1996. Amateur.
Not being a Music Hall regular, I couldn't honestly put my hand up at MC Russell Brown's invitation, but after opening night I'm happy to raise my hand, a leg and a voice - even a glass - to a show full of verve, vivacity, vicarious vitality and viparious vit (sorry - wit). In fact, in the light of Peter Costello's tasteless references to child abuse in Parliament earlier in the day, I was suspicious that the introduction to a wonderfully inane satire on the British Scouting tradition was politically motivated. Dr Brown reminded us that Baden-Powell's original book was entitled "Scouting for Boys"!
Music Hall is a Canberra institution, so it can't be criticised - even though it is a rather weird reincarnation of an ethnic English cult. These are my origins too, so I could sing along with gusto, but I was caught by surprise across the cultural distance of 40 years and 12,000 miles at the sentimental stereotypes surrounding sex, drink and crime. The '96 Canberra show is kept essentially at the level of jolly good fun, although music halls of a century ago included songs of social distress and disaster (like "Don't go Down in the Mine, Dad") which could literally bring the audience to tears. This was nearly achieved in one item - James Payne's rendition of "Ol' Man River" in a voice momentarily reminiscent of Paul Robeson, but costumed in white tie and tails. Here was an irony which created a silence in the audience uncharacteristic of most of the show.
There were too many highlights, and no lowlights, for each individual performer to be properly acknowledged in this space. Judy Burnett sang out of tune wonderfully, and successfully turned an inadequate harp into a remarkable sex object. The Charleston sequence was a clever reflection on the original - one example of the excellent choreography which obviously enthused the whole cast throughout the show. Discipline and polish brought this year's Music Hall out of the ordinary, with perhaps the Harmony Quartet shining as they played with the polyphony and dissonance in Andrew Kay's original compositions. Costumes were classy and backstage management, with very fast changes in costumes, sets and props, was as smooth as the MC's patter.
Don't miss the '96 Music Hall if you are a regular - I think there is more creative flair in the music and dancing than I have seen on my previous visits, and old favourites have lost none of their zing. If you are not ethnic British, don't miss the chance to learn and laugh: they're a bit funny peculiar, and they're certainly funny ha-ha!
© Frank McKone
Thursday 30 May 1996
Thursday 23 May 1996
1996: Kiss Me Kate by Cole Porter
Kiss Me Kate by Cole Porter. Queanbeyan Players at Queanbeyan Bicentennial Centre, May 23. Director/Designer: Marie Jensen. Musical Director: John Agnew. Choreography: Katelyn Keys. Season: May 23, 24, 25, 30, 31 and June 1, 1996, at 8 pm. Matinee May 26 at 2 pm. Amateur.
Bright, colourful costumes: strong medieval Italianate flavour in the Shakespearean scenes. Bright colourful music: strong early 20th Century American flavour throughout. Good to very good voices in all the lead roles. Stylish choreography, though the flavour was post-1990. Except for the tap: a fair imitation of Gene Kelly. Strong chorus singing and dancing. Nifty gangster character roles. Neat script: play within a play - does Petruchio/Fred Graham (Trent Morris) deserve Katherine/Lilli Vanessi (Mary O'Brien)? I thought Mary had the edge on Trent in musicality and acting, but maybe this was Shakespeare/Porter's character shining through. Lois/Bianca (Judith Satrapa) and Bill/Lucentio (Rodney Beaver) were a well balanced pair: all four provided a core strength to the production.
It's unfair that amateur groups - who provide many budding and experienced performers with the opportunity to entertain - have to put up with such dreadful barns as the Bicentennial Centre: no depth to the stage, awful lighting arrangements, tricky amplification problems, difficult sight-lines and hard plastic seats (though at least it was heated). The old re-worked Nova Cinema I remember from 15 years ago wasn't much worse. I notice the Queanbeyan Players' patrons include the Mayor, Frank Pangallo, and the City Manager, Hugh Percy. How about a proper theatre to go with the patronage, eh? Or maybe that would be Too Darn Hot!
Is Kiss Me Kate politically correct? Probably no more or less than The Taming of the Shrew, I think. Much depends on how Kate's last speech is performed. Shakespeare's comedy demands a strong ironic tone to allow us to believe in Kate and Petruchio's sense of humour and finally recognised equality in love: I'm not sure this comes through in Mary/Lilli's performance of Kate's final song, but this could be Porter's fault. The music sounds definitely romantic without suggesting irony. I found it easy to believe that Shakespeare, when he appeared at the end, had just come from David Williamson's Dead White Males and was seriously re-considering his options, at least in relation to Cole Porter's residual performing rights.
Kiss Me Kate is a lively, competent production which manages to defeat the terrors of the Bicentennial Centre. Worth a visit.
(c) Frank McKone M.A., F.A.C.E.
Canberra, Australia
Bright, colourful costumes: strong medieval Italianate flavour in the Shakespearean scenes. Bright colourful music: strong early 20th Century American flavour throughout. Good to very good voices in all the lead roles. Stylish choreography, though the flavour was post-1990. Except for the tap: a fair imitation of Gene Kelly. Strong chorus singing and dancing. Nifty gangster character roles. Neat script: play within a play - does Petruchio/Fred Graham (Trent Morris) deserve Katherine/Lilli Vanessi (Mary O'Brien)? I thought Mary had the edge on Trent in musicality and acting, but maybe this was Shakespeare/Porter's character shining through. Lois/Bianca (Judith Satrapa) and Bill/Lucentio (Rodney Beaver) were a well balanced pair: all four provided a core strength to the production.
It's unfair that amateur groups - who provide many budding and experienced performers with the opportunity to entertain - have to put up with such dreadful barns as the Bicentennial Centre: no depth to the stage, awful lighting arrangements, tricky amplification problems, difficult sight-lines and hard plastic seats (though at least it was heated). The old re-worked Nova Cinema I remember from 15 years ago wasn't much worse. I notice the Queanbeyan Players' patrons include the Mayor, Frank Pangallo, and the City Manager, Hugh Percy. How about a proper theatre to go with the patronage, eh? Or maybe that would be Too Darn Hot!
Is Kiss Me Kate politically correct? Probably no more or less than The Taming of the Shrew, I think. Much depends on how Kate's last speech is performed. Shakespeare's comedy demands a strong ironic tone to allow us to believe in Kate and Petruchio's sense of humour and finally recognised equality in love: I'm not sure this comes through in Mary/Lilli's performance of Kate's final song, but this could be Porter's fault. The music sounds definitely romantic without suggesting irony. I found it easy to believe that Shakespeare, when he appeared at the end, had just come from David Williamson's Dead White Males and was seriously re-considering his options, at least in relation to Cole Porter's residual performing rights.
Kiss Me Kate is a lively, competent production which manages to defeat the terrors of the Bicentennial Centre. Worth a visit.
(c) Frank McKone M.A., F.A.C.E.
Canberra, Australia
Wednesday 22 May 1996
1996: Salty Seagull Takes Off by Marie-Martine Ferrari and Shelley MacDonald
Salty Seagull Takes Off. Company Skylark directed by Catherine Mann. Original script by Marie-Martine Ferrari and Shelley MacDonald. Music by Jeff Evans. Professional. Current tour to schools fully booked. Public performances: Saturdays June 8 and 15, 10 am and 11 am, Ralph Wilson Theatre, Gorman House Arts Centre.
I like the traditional proscenium puppet theatre and marionettes, but it's hard to go past Skylark's modern mix of stick, string and hand puppets. Pre-schoolers have no problem engaging directly with the puppets, even though the operator is often fully visible and obviously speaking the puppet's words. Story-telling in this way has an ancient history: Company Skylark maintains the tradition with consummate style.
The story is about young Salty, who can't yet properly fly but pushes himself to the limit to rescue the dolphin, drowning because of a plastic bag lodged over his blow-hole. On the way an absolutely huge whale gives the tiring Salty a ride, and we see many other creatures of the sea: the hermit crab who urges Salty on; a shark, sea horses, star fish and colourful reef fish - one of whom is eaten by the shark. The acting and puppet manipulation is top class. There were many moments of delight as the children spontaneously responded. The parents, who were later treated to pumpkin and vegetable soup (the product of several days' learning by the littlies and their tireless Weston Pre-school teachers), exulted in unison as one of their children told Salty with absolute authority "You should try! If you don't try, you won't do it never!"
On the other hand I felt a wee bit squirmy about the message being reiterated by the motherly whale: you'll succeed if you believe you can, and it's all about using your "inner strength". This was new age romanticism which I guess the parents may think is wonderful, but the kids can really do without. Especially if they cotton on to the point that the shark, presented as an aggressive buffoon, actually gets to eat the fish it catches. I have no problems with the practical message to protect the environment. Drama's emotional impact is powerful, so it has to be used with extra care to support children's self-confidence within a proper understanding of reality. The little girl who told Salty he should try was perfectly logical; but the converse of her point (if you keep trying, you will succeed) is not logical nor the truth, despite the myth of Robert Bruce. This issue aside, the main message was eminently clear: don't litter the beach or your plastic bag could kill a dolphin. Dramatic, but true. Salty Seagull is worth his salt.
© Frank McKone
I like the traditional proscenium puppet theatre and marionettes, but it's hard to go past Skylark's modern mix of stick, string and hand puppets. Pre-schoolers have no problem engaging directly with the puppets, even though the operator is often fully visible and obviously speaking the puppet's words. Story-telling in this way has an ancient history: Company Skylark maintains the tradition with consummate style.
The story is about young Salty, who can't yet properly fly but pushes himself to the limit to rescue the dolphin, drowning because of a plastic bag lodged over his blow-hole. On the way an absolutely huge whale gives the tiring Salty a ride, and we see many other creatures of the sea: the hermit crab who urges Salty on; a shark, sea horses, star fish and colourful reef fish - one of whom is eaten by the shark. The acting and puppet manipulation is top class. There were many moments of delight as the children spontaneously responded. The parents, who were later treated to pumpkin and vegetable soup (the product of several days' learning by the littlies and their tireless Weston Pre-school teachers), exulted in unison as one of their children told Salty with absolute authority "You should try! If you don't try, you won't do it never!"
On the other hand I felt a wee bit squirmy about the message being reiterated by the motherly whale: you'll succeed if you believe you can, and it's all about using your "inner strength". This was new age romanticism which I guess the parents may think is wonderful, but the kids can really do without. Especially if they cotton on to the point that the shark, presented as an aggressive buffoon, actually gets to eat the fish it catches. I have no problems with the practical message to protect the environment. Drama's emotional impact is powerful, so it has to be used with extra care to support children's self-confidence within a proper understanding of reality. The little girl who told Salty he should try was perfectly logical; but the converse of her point (if you keep trying, you will succeed) is not logical nor the truth, despite the myth of Robert Bruce. This issue aside, the main message was eminently clear: don't litter the beach or your plastic bag could kill a dolphin. Dramatic, but true. Salty Seagull is worth his salt.
© Frank McKone
Tuesday 21 May 1996
1996: The Three Little Pigs by Charlotte and Sean Meany
The Three Little Pigs by Charlotte and Sean Meany. Toybox Puppet Theatre Company. Pre-school and Early Childhood. Available for in-school performances throughout the year: bookings on 231 9012. Professional. Thanks to Alison Watson and staff at Fraser Pre-School.
"I can't look! I can't look!" burst from the dramatically inclined pre-schooler near me as the Wolf appeared. Soon she was wide-eyed, cheering the Littlest Pig to make good the escape. In reality, the marionette Wolf and Pig were running on the spot while the backdrop was rolled across the scene behind them. How important indeed it is for young children's imaginations to be stirred by the old theatrical devices. And they were rapt for the whole show.
I was pleased to see string puppets in the traditional puppet theatre once again, when other companies have shifted the focus to hand puppets, whole body puppets and combinations of actors and puppets. Toybox, a local and entirely self-funded company, complements the other companies available to schools. Jigsaw, Skylark and now Toybox provide rich fare. Particularly I thought Shaun's music was delightful: seemingly simple, but with highly original harmonies and rhythms in clear instrumentation. Toybox's speciality is to present traditional European fairy tales (properly researched, I might add) with marionettes, which have been so important in European culture. This is early days for this company, and I hope they will go on to explore marionettes in Australian and Asian contexts.
An essential part of the show is Charlotte's introduction, which sets the rules for the children and gives them some protection (the Wolf is not really scary - he's more like a clown); followed up by her leading a discussion with the children and having them meet the Wolf, the Cat and see backstage after the show. Very quickly children began to ask questions like "How do you make the Cat's eyes open and close?" and from this moment the relationship between imagination and reality is clear, and much is being learned about theatre. The show is very suitable for pre-school and early childhood, but I think some research is needed into the different levels of vocabulary for each age group which Charlotte needs to use when speaking directly to the children.
Toybox's Three Little Pigs has a nice mix of melodrama and sense of irony which the young children thoroughly enjoyed. Productions like this help them know how to be a good audience and, I believe, help to counter the superficiality (and gratuitous violence) of much of what they see on television. I highly recommend this show to teachers as both education and entertainment.
© Frank McKone
"I can't look! I can't look!" burst from the dramatically inclined pre-schooler near me as the Wolf appeared. Soon she was wide-eyed, cheering the Littlest Pig to make good the escape. In reality, the marionette Wolf and Pig were running on the spot while the backdrop was rolled across the scene behind them. How important indeed it is for young children's imaginations to be stirred by the old theatrical devices. And they were rapt for the whole show.
I was pleased to see string puppets in the traditional puppet theatre once again, when other companies have shifted the focus to hand puppets, whole body puppets and combinations of actors and puppets. Toybox, a local and entirely self-funded company, complements the other companies available to schools. Jigsaw, Skylark and now Toybox provide rich fare. Particularly I thought Shaun's music was delightful: seemingly simple, but with highly original harmonies and rhythms in clear instrumentation. Toybox's speciality is to present traditional European fairy tales (properly researched, I might add) with marionettes, which have been so important in European culture. This is early days for this company, and I hope they will go on to explore marionettes in Australian and Asian contexts.
An essential part of the show is Charlotte's introduction, which sets the rules for the children and gives them some protection (the Wolf is not really scary - he's more like a clown); followed up by her leading a discussion with the children and having them meet the Wolf, the Cat and see backstage after the show. Very quickly children began to ask questions like "How do you make the Cat's eyes open and close?" and from this moment the relationship between imagination and reality is clear, and much is being learned about theatre. The show is very suitable for pre-school and early childhood, but I think some research is needed into the different levels of vocabulary for each age group which Charlotte needs to use when speaking directly to the children.
Toybox's Three Little Pigs has a nice mix of melodrama and sense of irony which the young children thoroughly enjoyed. Productions like this help them know how to be a good audience and, I believe, help to counter the superficiality (and gratuitous violence) of much of what they see on television. I highly recommend this show to teachers as both education and entertainment.
© Frank McKone
Wednesday 8 May 1996
1996: Mercury by Manuel Aston
Mercury by Manuel Aston. The Jigsaw Company at Currong Contemporary Arts Theatre, Gorman House Arts Centre, and on tour. Directed by Lynette Wallis. Season: Wednesday May 8; Thursday to Saturday May 9 - 25, 1996. 8.15 pm.
The Jigsaw Company specialises in presenting short but telling plays about social issues. Mercury dramatises the production of an audience-participation TV-host open forum, in this case on the death of a young girl after taking Ecstasy at a dance party. Each member of the production team has their own public and private agenda. The play culminates in exposing the conflict between the roles of the TV host as parent and public figure. He sees himself as no more than a "winged messenger" who doesn't deserve to be shot down by his unscrupulous colleagues.
This is a clever script which, in the capable hands of a highly professional team, uncovers a deeper, more significant theme. Using taped footage and live camera, Manuel Aston has drawn upon his experience in television production to show the way the images we see are manipulated to twist our perception of events. In the end the moral dilemma in the characters' relationships is left unresolved; but the issues of the role of the owners of the media and misuse of technical devices in the hands of the TV editor will not go away. I suspect that not many of us really understand how shots of an interviewer taken after the interview are cut in to reflect on and alter the meaning of the interviewee's words. What is the effect of "pixillating" the image of the interviewee's face; or deciding not to do so? Computer "enhancing" of the front page photo of the alleged Port Arthur murderer has exposed one newspaper to criticism this week.
The performances of the highly versatile actors are spot on. They shift into and out of each scene with such precision that one is not aware of the slightest interruption in the dramatic flow. Characters of real depth are created in a moment - I was particularly impressed with Virginia Anderson's rendition of the dead girl's mother. The sense of the reality of a TV studio is very strong using the bare minimum of equipment and a technical director who never misses a beat.
The show is already on tour to day-time venues, and opens for its evening season this Wednesday, May 8. This is entertainment plus: an interplay of critical thoughts and feelings germaine to modern society. I advise you not to miss it.
© Frank McKone
The Jigsaw Company specialises in presenting short but telling plays about social issues. Mercury dramatises the production of an audience-participation TV-host open forum, in this case on the death of a young girl after taking Ecstasy at a dance party. Each member of the production team has their own public and private agenda. The play culminates in exposing the conflict between the roles of the TV host as parent and public figure. He sees himself as no more than a "winged messenger" who doesn't deserve to be shot down by his unscrupulous colleagues.
This is a clever script which, in the capable hands of a highly professional team, uncovers a deeper, more significant theme. Using taped footage and live camera, Manuel Aston has drawn upon his experience in television production to show the way the images we see are manipulated to twist our perception of events. In the end the moral dilemma in the characters' relationships is left unresolved; but the issues of the role of the owners of the media and misuse of technical devices in the hands of the TV editor will not go away. I suspect that not many of us really understand how shots of an interviewer taken after the interview are cut in to reflect on and alter the meaning of the interviewee's words. What is the effect of "pixillating" the image of the interviewee's face; or deciding not to do so? Computer "enhancing" of the front page photo of the alleged Port Arthur murderer has exposed one newspaper to criticism this week.
The performances of the highly versatile actors are spot on. They shift into and out of each scene with such precision that one is not aware of the slightest interruption in the dramatic flow. Characters of real depth are created in a moment - I was particularly impressed with Virginia Anderson's rendition of the dead girl's mother. The sense of the reality of a TV studio is very strong using the bare minimum of equipment and a technical director who never misses a beat.
The show is already on tour to day-time venues, and opens for its evening season this Wednesday, May 8. This is entertainment plus: an interplay of critical thoughts and feelings germaine to modern society. I advise you not to miss it.
© Frank McKone
Tuesday 7 May 1996
1996: Monica's House by Monica Trapaga, with Penny Flanagan
Monica's House by Monica Trapaga, with Penny Flanagan. Script: Monica Trapaga. Music: Julian Gough, Dave Basten. Sound: Daniele Digiovanni. Stage Manager: Katrina Thomas. Tuggeranong Valley Rugby Union Club 10.00 am May 7 and Canberra Labor Club 10.00 am May 8, 1996. Professional.
Monica's House is a wonderful surprise - not for the littlies who all know what to do when Monica asks; and not for the parents who know they can trust their children in Monica's capable hands - but for me to see such creative, original, educational drama happening so naturally in a club setting. More strength to the clubs if they bring in shows of this quality for members and their children.
Tuggeranong waylaid the performers with some technical problems, but the professional team found solutions without missing a beat. In fact music, rhythm and movement are the core of Monica's presentation. This is not only the Monica of ABC TV's Playschool, but also of the erstwhile band Monica and the Moochers and now of Monica's Brazilian Spectacular band based in Sydney.
A bewildering variety of style in music and drama from a person who was born in Australia of Spanish and American parents from the Philippines - both theatre professionals - and whose grandparents were performers in Spain, comes as no surprise. Monica never trained at NIDA - she has just worked on stage since her schooldays. There is a delightful loving spontaneous empathy in her show which everyone from cradle age responds to. If you've read this far you'll know to seek out Monica's House.
But there is much more to Monica Trapaga than the friend the children see. Here we go for some excellent theory about education and drama - an Education Perspective on the Arts and Entertainment page. As she demonstrates, performing is a "loving experience" - a two-way communication between the actor and her audience. As a band singer she is always conscious of this theatrical relationship, inviting her adult audience to participate just as she invites the children to sing with her, dance with her, mime with her and help her solve problems. It is this focus, so natural for her, that has made her one of the longstanding Playschool performers.
Yet she finds the Playschool approach, which particularly emphasises the children being made to distinguish very definitely between fiction and fact, a limitation of imagination. In her show, she slowly eases the children, after the fiction is complete when everyone sings Happy Birthday to McKaw, out of the dramatic frame (with a re-run of the clapping song) and an announcement that their time together is almost at an end, towards the "reality" frame. Monica comes off stage at this point and receives the children (this takes nearly as long as the show), signing their posters and tee-shirts and simply being their personal friend. In doing so, she leaves a certain fuzzy quality about that line between fiction and fact, which some would question.
But the 3 year old next to me had turned to her mother when the clapping song finished, saying "Mummy, we have to go home now." She knew exactly when the dramatic frame was shifted to reality. And she waited patiently for more than half an hour to talk to Monica before she and her Mummy went home. Monica told me of children like the 10 year old boy, well past Playschool watching age, who waited after a show to say how much he wanted to meet her. This was not adulation of the actor; just wanting to say hallo to a friend.
So Monica Trapaga is a crossing-point between television and drama. Television creates the image of her, but it is live drama where the connection with reality is made.
Monica saw Sesame Street as an important influence on her work, but I observed that her script, like the Playschool scripts, ask for focussed attention as each short-attention-span segment is linked into theme and plot. The essential theatrical form used is absurd drama, which enables the children's imaginations to be turned from mental problem solving (what are we going to do without carrots when McKaw wants us to make a carrot cake) to physical exercise (the running song, which will take us to the shops) to imaginary miming (because we are tired we'll go the beach and go surfing). Absurdism is not used with the pessimism of Ionesco, of course, but with the elan of the Italian Commedia dell'Arte. Whereas the logicality of Sesame Street is undermined by the short-attention-span advertising format which reflects a society built on a commercial ideology, Monica's absurdism is a non-preaching, non-judgemental form which celebrates love, empathy and imagination.
Monica Trapaga sees herself as a world citizen coming from an Australia where people accept different cultures more readily than in other places. I found her inspiring, a figure of hope for the future in which we all need to become citizens of the world.
© Frank McKone
Monica's House is a wonderful surprise - not for the littlies who all know what to do when Monica asks; and not for the parents who know they can trust their children in Monica's capable hands - but for me to see such creative, original, educational drama happening so naturally in a club setting. More strength to the clubs if they bring in shows of this quality for members and their children.
Tuggeranong waylaid the performers with some technical problems, but the professional team found solutions without missing a beat. In fact music, rhythm and movement are the core of Monica's presentation. This is not only the Monica of ABC TV's Playschool, but also of the erstwhile band Monica and the Moochers and now of Monica's Brazilian Spectacular band based in Sydney.
A bewildering variety of style in music and drama from a person who was born in Australia of Spanish and American parents from the Philippines - both theatre professionals - and whose grandparents were performers in Spain, comes as no surprise. Monica never trained at NIDA - she has just worked on stage since her schooldays. There is a delightful loving spontaneous empathy in her show which everyone from cradle age responds to. If you've read this far you'll know to seek out Monica's House.
But there is much more to Monica Trapaga than the friend the children see. Here we go for some excellent theory about education and drama - an Education Perspective on the Arts and Entertainment page. As she demonstrates, performing is a "loving experience" - a two-way communication between the actor and her audience. As a band singer she is always conscious of this theatrical relationship, inviting her adult audience to participate just as she invites the children to sing with her, dance with her, mime with her and help her solve problems. It is this focus, so natural for her, that has made her one of the longstanding Playschool performers.
Yet she finds the Playschool approach, which particularly emphasises the children being made to distinguish very definitely between fiction and fact, a limitation of imagination. In her show, she slowly eases the children, after the fiction is complete when everyone sings Happy Birthday to McKaw, out of the dramatic frame (with a re-run of the clapping song) and an announcement that their time together is almost at an end, towards the "reality" frame. Monica comes off stage at this point and receives the children (this takes nearly as long as the show), signing their posters and tee-shirts and simply being their personal friend. In doing so, she leaves a certain fuzzy quality about that line between fiction and fact, which some would question.
But the 3 year old next to me had turned to her mother when the clapping song finished, saying "Mummy, we have to go home now." She knew exactly when the dramatic frame was shifted to reality. And she waited patiently for more than half an hour to talk to Monica before she and her Mummy went home. Monica told me of children like the 10 year old boy, well past Playschool watching age, who waited after a show to say how much he wanted to meet her. This was not adulation of the actor; just wanting to say hallo to a friend.
So Monica Trapaga is a crossing-point between television and drama. Television creates the image of her, but it is live drama where the connection with reality is made.
Monica saw Sesame Street as an important influence on her work, but I observed that her script, like the Playschool scripts, ask for focussed attention as each short-attention-span segment is linked into theme and plot. The essential theatrical form used is absurd drama, which enables the children's imaginations to be turned from mental problem solving (what are we going to do without carrots when McKaw wants us to make a carrot cake) to physical exercise (the running song, which will take us to the shops) to imaginary miming (because we are tired we'll go the beach and go surfing). Absurdism is not used with the pessimism of Ionesco, of course, but with the elan of the Italian Commedia dell'Arte. Whereas the logicality of Sesame Street is undermined by the short-attention-span advertising format which reflects a society built on a commercial ideology, Monica's absurdism is a non-preaching, non-judgemental form which celebrates love, empathy and imagination.
Monica Trapaga sees herself as a world citizen coming from an Australia where people accept different cultures more readily than in other places. I found her inspiring, a figure of hope for the future in which we all need to become citizens of the world.
© Frank McKone
Monday 6 May 1996
1996: Hating Alison Ashley by Richard Tulloch
Hating Alison Ashley by Richard Tulloch. Theatre South at the Llewellyn Hall, Canberra School of Music. Adapted and directed by Richard Tulloch. Professional. 9.45 am and 12.30 pm May 6 - May 7, 1996.
The teacher poked the boy sitting nearby and said "Did you like that?" "Yes," said the boy who had been giggling - and been silent - at all the right dramatic places since the play began. "Well, clap then!" said the teacher, realising that the poor lad had probably spent his life watching television and didn't realise that these were real people on the stage who needed to hear his appreciation.
Theatre South deserves applause for this production. The characterisation is definite and detailed, the set design works beautifully and the costuming is so good that I suspect that many youngsters in the audience may not have realised that these were adult actors. Body language and voices were finely tuned to complete the illusion. At first I thought the choice of the Llewellyn Hall, large as it is, would distance the audience too much; but as it turned out it helped make the "children" on stage seem the right size.
Richard Tulloch has long been recognised as one of the best theatre-in-education writers in the country, and Hating Alison Ashley is one of the favourites for the late primary - early high school age group. The play deserves its reputation: it raises all the issues of a junior level Heartbreak High but deals with them apparently whimsically, while actually showing how acceptance of everyone's differences makes simple good sense. No-one hates Alison Ashley, nor Erika Yurken who envies her, nor the class clown, nor even the teacher with the withering stare, by the end of the play. We have learned that the "best" of well-behaved families have divorces and riotous undisciplined homes can contain genuine love. All is presented without sentimentality and for the young audience the play fulfills the proper role of good drama: to be an honest and entertaining reflection of experience. Highly recommended.
© Frank McKone
The teacher poked the boy sitting nearby and said "Did you like that?" "Yes," said the boy who had been giggling - and been silent - at all the right dramatic places since the play began. "Well, clap then!" said the teacher, realising that the poor lad had probably spent his life watching television and didn't realise that these were real people on the stage who needed to hear his appreciation.
Theatre South deserves applause for this production. The characterisation is definite and detailed, the set design works beautifully and the costuming is so good that I suspect that many youngsters in the audience may not have realised that these were adult actors. Body language and voices were finely tuned to complete the illusion. At first I thought the choice of the Llewellyn Hall, large as it is, would distance the audience too much; but as it turned out it helped make the "children" on stage seem the right size.
Richard Tulloch has long been recognised as one of the best theatre-in-education writers in the country, and Hating Alison Ashley is one of the favourites for the late primary - early high school age group. The play deserves its reputation: it raises all the issues of a junior level Heartbreak High but deals with them apparently whimsically, while actually showing how acceptance of everyone's differences makes simple good sense. No-one hates Alison Ashley, nor Erika Yurken who envies her, nor the class clown, nor even the teacher with the withering stare, by the end of the play. We have learned that the "best" of well-behaved families have divorces and riotous undisciplined homes can contain genuine love. All is presented without sentimentality and for the young audience the play fulfills the proper role of good drama: to be an honest and entertaining reflection of experience. Highly recommended.
© Frank McKone
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