Phantasmagoria by David Ruby Howe and Tomas Watson. Five Skinny White Guys at The Street Theatre Studio August 24-27, 7.30pm.
The story of the weird ship Phantasmagoria takes on possible meanings of Titanic proportions in this light-hearted revue-style presentation. Canberra is renowned for spawning new young theatre groups like coral on the Barrier Reef, without even the requirement of the right tide and full moon, and there is something vaguely Tempest-like in this first production by former Dickson College drama students. Not quite up to Shakespeare yet, but time may tell.
From the point of view of the opening night audience largely of friends and relations, the array of definitely abnormal characters combined with an acting style which satirised American sitcoms created bursts of laughter and a sense of anticipation that something seriously risque would appear before our very eyes. An oft-used technique was the long pause which, in the sitcom, would be filled with meaningful glances. Here, an existential blank would fail to fill the space as characters were too weird to understand such subtlety.
I found unfortunately, as in the sitcoms, that the pacing was often excruciatingly slow, especially in the first half in which all the main characters were introduced in short apparently unrelated scenes. The second half picked up on board Phantasmagoria when the story line became something of a plot.
It's an achievement to have produced close to 2 hours' entertainment, if still raw in form. Though not the "innovative comedy" their promotion material claims, there are many touches of originality which these writers can build on and I can see some potential theatrical careers in the offing.
The four (yes, four) Five Skinny White Guys and the other 13 who performed, designed and operated backstage should certainly take the risk again and push their envelope further into the abyss of absurdity next time.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Thursday 25 August 2005
Wednesday 17 August 2005
2005: President Wilson in Paris by Ron Blair
President Wilson in Paris by Ron Blair. HIT Productions at Tuggeranong Arts Centre August 16-17.
The Lesson by Ionesco, The Maids by Genet, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf by Albee - President Wilson by Ron Blair. I don't think so.
But, even if the play doesn't have the sophistication of its forebears, it could have been a much more entertaining night out than I saw on Tuesday. Described by the Victorian Department of Education (Senior Drama playlist) as an "absurdist comedy thriller", I saw a mild attempt at psycho-realism, some funny bits (mainly in the second half), and nothing very thrilling. Billed also as "in the style of Hitchcock", this production just did not rise to the required level of horror.
What a shame, when the actors - especially Henri Szeps (President Wilson) and Deborah Kennedy (Edith Wilson) - are very well-known and highly professional, as is the director, Jennifer Hagan. In fact I thought relative newcomer Henry Nixon (down and out actor, amateur burglar and Wilson's adviser Colonel House) was the most consistent performer.
Though it was clever to update the political references and the setting with some nice one-liners, the production needed to go well over the top to highlight the absurdity, create an increasing sense of madness at which we might laugh until we are brought up with shock at the finality of death. Or, we could have been treated to a rising sense of ghoulish foreboding - with laughs to temporarily break the tension - as we watch Nixon's character writhe until he is finally put out of his misery.
Either way would have required a bond between the actors, particularly between Szeps and Kennedy as psychopathic husband and wife, which just was not there on the night. Lines were even fluffed, timing was rarely right, the flow of the play broke too often into little eddies which could be mildly interesting in themselves but were not joined to form a mighty river.
And so, having gone to see one of the minor icons of Australian theatre, performed by class actors including Henri Szeps who has major icon status, I was disappointed.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
The Lesson by Ionesco, The Maids by Genet, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf by Albee - President Wilson by Ron Blair. I don't think so.
But, even if the play doesn't have the sophistication of its forebears, it could have been a much more entertaining night out than I saw on Tuesday. Described by the Victorian Department of Education (Senior Drama playlist) as an "absurdist comedy thriller", I saw a mild attempt at psycho-realism, some funny bits (mainly in the second half), and nothing very thrilling. Billed also as "in the style of Hitchcock", this production just did not rise to the required level of horror.
What a shame, when the actors - especially Henri Szeps (President Wilson) and Deborah Kennedy (Edith Wilson) - are very well-known and highly professional, as is the director, Jennifer Hagan. In fact I thought relative newcomer Henry Nixon (down and out actor, amateur burglar and Wilson's adviser Colonel House) was the most consistent performer.
Though it was clever to update the political references and the setting with some nice one-liners, the production needed to go well over the top to highlight the absurdity, create an increasing sense of madness at which we might laugh until we are brought up with shock at the finality of death. Or, we could have been treated to a rising sense of ghoulish foreboding - with laughs to temporarily break the tension - as we watch Nixon's character writhe until he is finally put out of his misery.
Either way would have required a bond between the actors, particularly between Szeps and Kennedy as psychopathic husband and wife, which just was not there on the night. Lines were even fluffed, timing was rarely right, the flow of the play broke too often into little eddies which could be mildly interesting in themselves but were not joined to form a mighty river.
And so, having gone to see one of the minor icons of Australian theatre, performed by class actors including Henri Szeps who has major icon status, I was disappointed.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Wednesday 3 August 2005
2005: Sharon, Keep Your Hair On! by Gillian Rubinstein
Sharon, Keep Your Hair On! based on books by Gillian Rubinstein. Patch Theatre directed by Dave Brown at The Playhouse, August 3-6, 6.30pm (1 hour)
Patch Theatre tells 3 stories in this production - Sharon Keep Your Hair On!, Hooray for the Kafe Karaoke, and Prue Theroux, the Cool Librarian. The performers are multi-talented singers, musicians, multi-media technicians and communicators with young children (and their parents) in the foyer as well as on stage.
Yet despite the high level of professionalism and sophistication, and a genuine educational purpose, I found myself feeling lukewarm - not fully engaged by the performers. Checking around the audience I noticed this was also true of many of the children. I can certainly recommend the show as an entertainment, with nicely done ironic jokes that most of the children would have missed but their parents enjoyed. I can recommend it for its inclusiveness of diverse ways of living and its emphasis on reading books. These strengths come, of course, from Rubinstein's writing.
I can say I thoroughly enjoyed the energy, timing and terrific musical skills, particularly in the singing of the three women, Astrid Pill, Libby O'Donovan and Catherine Oates. So why was I not completely satisfied?
Patch Theatre claims to "create theatre experiences to fuel children's imaginative engagement to feed and enrich their creative play", but their show is so tight and professionally slick that the audience participation became slotted in to the predetermined schedule. There was not the time or dramatic space allowed for responses from the children to grow, so that the children might feel they were in charge and leading the creativity. Some parents may remember Monica Trapaga's shows where the littlies and lots of bigger people would be singing and dancing to Monica's encouragement. I think those children learned more about experiencing live theatre than in Patch's show, because Trapaga worked with her audience rather than worked her audience. Patch demonstrated theatre to the children; Trapaga had the children play for her.
My reservations should not hold you back from seeing Sharon, Keep Your Hair On! The stories are fun, with good intentions. The show certainly brings the books to life, and should encourage the children to read. Though I did notice singing along with "I love karaoke" was one of the most enthusiastic episodes, but hardly a time of quiet reflective contemplation with a good book.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
Patch Theatre tells 3 stories in this production - Sharon Keep Your Hair On!, Hooray for the Kafe Karaoke, and Prue Theroux, the Cool Librarian. The performers are multi-talented singers, musicians, multi-media technicians and communicators with young children (and their parents) in the foyer as well as on stage.
Yet despite the high level of professionalism and sophistication, and a genuine educational purpose, I found myself feeling lukewarm - not fully engaged by the performers. Checking around the audience I noticed this was also true of many of the children. I can certainly recommend the show as an entertainment, with nicely done ironic jokes that most of the children would have missed but their parents enjoyed. I can recommend it for its inclusiveness of diverse ways of living and its emphasis on reading books. These strengths come, of course, from Rubinstein's writing.
I can say I thoroughly enjoyed the energy, timing and terrific musical skills, particularly in the singing of the three women, Astrid Pill, Libby O'Donovan and Catherine Oates. So why was I not completely satisfied?
Patch Theatre claims to "create theatre experiences to fuel children's imaginative engagement to feed and enrich their creative play", but their show is so tight and professionally slick that the audience participation became slotted in to the predetermined schedule. There was not the time or dramatic space allowed for responses from the children to grow, so that the children might feel they were in charge and leading the creativity. Some parents may remember Monica Trapaga's shows where the littlies and lots of bigger people would be singing and dancing to Monica's encouragement. I think those children learned more about experiencing live theatre than in Patch's show, because Trapaga worked with her audience rather than worked her audience. Patch demonstrated theatre to the children; Trapaga had the children play for her.
My reservations should not hold you back from seeing Sharon, Keep Your Hair On! The stories are fun, with good intentions. The show certainly brings the books to life, and should encourage the children to read. Though I did notice singing along with "I love karaoke" was one of the most enthusiastic episodes, but hardly a time of quiet reflective contemplation with a good book.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
2005: The Girl Who Lived by Adam Loughlin and Paul Quinn
The Girl Who Lived by Adam Loughlin and Paul Quinn. Bridging the Gap Youth Productions at The Street Theatre until Saturday, 12 noon and 8pm. 1 hour 50 minutes, no interval.
We are often told that youth are less politically committed today, but this group from Wollongong stands tall for human rights. They tell the story of the Holocaust, saying it must not remain a footnote in history, just an entry in an encyclopaedia with dates and numbers "but not our voices".
The Girl Who Lived is an often powerful and confrontational production by 50 young people aged 14 to 21. The voices of the victims, of the ordinary people persuaded into hatred by propaganda and fear-mongering, and of the perpetrators of torture and industrial-scale mass murder are loud and clear. So too is the message. The world must never again "stand by, and watch" as we did then and since in Cambodia, Kosovo, Rwanda ....
Performers on stage, though not professionals, are totally committed and tightly focussed. They present an excellent example to the large numbers of teenagers in our school and college drama courses. Though it may be short notice, every local drama student should endeavour to get to The Street Theatre this week.
The video production, sound track, set design and technical production are all excellent quality. Definitely professional standard, and especially effective on The Street's main stage. Some scenes on stage could be trimmed, but the multi-media is spot on.
The unnamed girl in the title was found by an SS guard. She alone survived the gas, was taken out by the guard whose superiors ordered him to shoot her, which he did. He recorded the event in his diary. Lest we forget.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
We are often told that youth are less politically committed today, but this group from Wollongong stands tall for human rights. They tell the story of the Holocaust, saying it must not remain a footnote in history, just an entry in an encyclopaedia with dates and numbers "but not our voices".
The Girl Who Lived is an often powerful and confrontational production by 50 young people aged 14 to 21. The voices of the victims, of the ordinary people persuaded into hatred by propaganda and fear-mongering, and of the perpetrators of torture and industrial-scale mass murder are loud and clear. So too is the message. The world must never again "stand by, and watch" as we did then and since in Cambodia, Kosovo, Rwanda ....
Performers on stage, though not professionals, are totally committed and tightly focussed. They present an excellent example to the large numbers of teenagers in our school and college drama courses. Though it may be short notice, every local drama student should endeavour to get to The Street Theatre this week.
The video production, sound track, set design and technical production are all excellent quality. Definitely professional standard, and especially effective on The Street's main stage. Some scenes on stage could be trimmed, but the multi-media is spot on.
The unnamed girl in the title was found by an SS guard. She alone survived the gas, was taken out by the guard whose superiors ordered him to shoot her, which he did. He recorded the event in his diary. Lest we forget.
© Frank McKone, Canberra
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