The Heart of the Black Sea - An Oceanfaring Kabaret. Songs and lyrics by Mikel Simic. Orchestration: Ben O'Loghlin. Set design: Peter Mumford. Lighting design: Ivan Smith. Street Theatre, December 20-22.
Art cabaret in the European style might, at first blush, seem out of place in our bush capital. But in Mikel Simic's creative hands, the Heart of the Black Sea is a surprising, quirky, fascinating blend of Eastern and Western European traditions, drawing on Russian folk tales, Transylvanian pseudo-Gothic mythology and Brechtian social commentary.
Musically, many of the numbers have the contrapuntal and deliberately unfinished lines of the cabaret of Kurt Weill, but the harshness of the German form is rounded out by Magyar rhythms and Slavic harmonies. With trombone (Michael Bailey), trumpet/flugelhorn (Lou Horwood), euphonium (Lucien McGuiness) and Phil Moriarty, as The Great Muldavio on clarinet, we have all the elements of the traditional circus band and sad clown. Then across the stage the violas (Orson and Larissa Sutherland), violin (Anna Thompson) and cello (Kaija Upenieks) form a modern art quartet. And on stage, with the clarinet, Ben O'Loghlin on double bass, Pip Branson on violin and Mikel Simic on piano accordion form a cafe band of magnificent Romany romance, The Black Sea Gentlemen. O'Loghlin's orchestration ties this remarkable diversity into a wonderful unity of sound.
Dramatically, each number is a scene in episodic form, not linked by an obvious plot or the driving socio-logic of a Brecht, but by feeling. Reversals of our expectations are built into the lyrics, a commentary on the way we live our lives, taking us from ironic humour and gruesome imagery into the sadness of trapped love. Especially the final song, "The Carnival Goes On" seemed to offer some hope until we realise that the carnival has indeed gone on - and we are left, bereft, wondering how we are to cope.
This is strong stuff for cabaret - very satisfying original theatre - and matched in performance quality by Simic as Mikelangelo, Anna Simic (Anna Conda, the Snake Woman) and Undine Sellbach (Undine the Mermaid Tealady), in a cleverly designed set and great mood lighting.
Special appreciation must go to Pip Branson for his bravery in filling in so well for his brother David: The Heart of the Black Sea is a fitting memorial. I can only hope its shortened season can be followed by a revival in the fullness of time.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Friday 21 December 2001
Tuesday 18 December 2001
2001: The Monkey Show. Installation by Elizabeth Paterson
The Monkey Show. Installation by Elizabeth Paterson at Canberra Museum and Gallery until January 27, 2002. Visible day or night in Gallery 4 at CMAG entrance.
Liz Paterson has a long tradition as a fabric artist exploring the relationship in theatrical performance between the performer and her costume and set. Often the costume might become a character in its own right. Aspects of the costume or set then become symbolic of aspects of the character manipulated by an inner spirit - the hidden or partially hidden performer.
In this installation we see a set peopled by South American-looking monkeys, some wearing parrot costumes a little bit like rosellas but perhaps also South American. One wears a Father Christmas costume, appearing and disappearing down and up a colonial style plastered chimney.
Two wear nothing - one absolutely relaxed and comfortable in an extensive armchair; the other at the window looking out and away from the scene, as if stuck on a bland island, seeking fulfilment elsewhere.
Sailing boats cruise in through colonial French windows, airborne with clouds for sails - new arrivals expectant with ideals, perhaps.
A series of early model utes pass the scene as if on a hillside track. At random, one stops, for a sandwich, I wonder: maybe the insignificant driver stares at the view.
A river flows from a second French window, raising itself up like a serpent, becoming an old-fashioned ear trumpet. The comfortable monkey may be listening; or on the other hand may not be listening. Who can tell?
Trees, of no particular species, larger in the foreground, diminishing in the distance, lead into the fireplace beneath Monkey Santa's chimney. Is this a foreboding image of a charcoal factory?
The citation claims that "The Monkey Show alludes to Western culture's long fascination with the exotic and its relevance to the way that Australia has been perceived and how Australians perceive the world today." Maybe it does, but whatever perceptions you have are entirely your own. What you find in the images and what they symbolise may "allude" to bigger thoughts, and perhaps that's all you can expect from this kind of work. It's not a grand work of art (perhaps that's one image of Australia) and it's all made of cardboard, papier mache and bits of wire (that sounds like Australia, too).
Although I can't be sure I understand what meaning was intended, the images leave me less relaxed and comfortable than the monkey in the armchair, and feeling more like the monkey on the edge looking for something new. See what you think.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Liz Paterson has a long tradition as a fabric artist exploring the relationship in theatrical performance between the performer and her costume and set. Often the costume might become a character in its own right. Aspects of the costume or set then become symbolic of aspects of the character manipulated by an inner spirit - the hidden or partially hidden performer.
In this installation we see a set peopled by South American-looking monkeys, some wearing parrot costumes a little bit like rosellas but perhaps also South American. One wears a Father Christmas costume, appearing and disappearing down and up a colonial style plastered chimney.
Two wear nothing - one absolutely relaxed and comfortable in an extensive armchair; the other at the window looking out and away from the scene, as if stuck on a bland island, seeking fulfilment elsewhere.
Sailing boats cruise in through colonial French windows, airborne with clouds for sails - new arrivals expectant with ideals, perhaps.
A series of early model utes pass the scene as if on a hillside track. At random, one stops, for a sandwich, I wonder: maybe the insignificant driver stares at the view.
A river flows from a second French window, raising itself up like a serpent, becoming an old-fashioned ear trumpet. The comfortable monkey may be listening; or on the other hand may not be listening. Who can tell?
Trees, of no particular species, larger in the foreground, diminishing in the distance, lead into the fireplace beneath Monkey Santa's chimney. Is this a foreboding image of a charcoal factory?
The citation claims that "The Monkey Show alludes to Western culture's long fascination with the exotic and its relevance to the way that Australia has been perceived and how Australians perceive the world today." Maybe it does, but whatever perceptions you have are entirely your own. What you find in the images and what they symbolise may "allude" to bigger thoughts, and perhaps that's all you can expect from this kind of work. It's not a grand work of art (perhaps that's one image of Australia) and it's all made of cardboard, papier mache and bits of wire (that sounds like Australia, too).
Although I can't be sure I understand what meaning was intended, the images leave me less relaxed and comfortable than the monkey in the armchair, and feeling more like the monkey on the edge looking for something new. See what you think.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
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