The promotional poster for Henry Rollins’ Frequent Flyer tour says “Knowledge without mileage equals bullsh*t” and has Rollins depicted as a screaming torpedo- speeding across the city skyline. It’s a great poster- and reflects the show beautifully.

Before now, I had not ever encountered his work- not in any conscious way- I just spend a huge amount of my waking hours seeking out new experiences- recently I have embraced visual art as my new obsession- and have been consuming history and theory of art in vast binging quantities, insatiably slurping it up with an unquenchable desire to know, see, understand, experience more… Mostly I spend my time reading new plays- I read everything I am emailed by playwrights… and other things too- scientific papers, the back of cereal boxes, letters to the editor, shopping lists left on trains- anything… and before now, I had heard of, but not seen Rollins- I had heard of but not seen his band/s- ignorant. Utterly ignorant of what I was missing.

A few years back, my own narrow minded would have been deterred from listening to anything to do with a person who clearly enjoys weightlifting (nothing wrong with weights specifically- I just dated a body builder who was so vain he was almost a mirror- and I had unfairly coupled vanity/selfishness/superficiality with guys who spend alot of time at the gym)- but again- my ignorance and I am happy to proclaim it. I have been missing out due to my own prejudice- and this is especially acute and ironic as it is a driving preoccupation of Rollins’ message which resounds throughout my body- “time to GET OVER PREJUDICE- and it stops here and now, with you.”

Willingly lead by the recommendation of a friend- I decided to review Rollins- ignorant of his work and therefore my opinion not tainted by blind fandom, I headed to see Rollins at Enmore on Monday night – curious to see who his audience is. And there they were, resplendent in tattoos, black clothes, punk hair- men and women- fierce and strong (and the occasional fifty something year old)… the type of folk who I may have seen at Faith No More concerts.

All I can say is- I am utterly transformed…

First published on www.australianstage.com.au

Out of the black curtained fringe stage, dressed in black shoes, black pants and black t-shirt launches Henry Rollins- complete with tattooed muscles and a voice that could melt rock candy- he starts his eloquent stream of considered consciousness- words are plucked from his extensive labyrinthine mind and carefully carved into a charming coercive and utterly engaging tirade of appeal- for audience, for approval, for understanding, for examination, for compassion, for generosity, for political action, for rigour, for intensity, for freedom of speech, for robust debate, for intellectual wrestle, for harmony, for diversity, for acceptance, for the embrace of all for humanity- and it doesn’t stop.

Henry Rollins- a kaleidoscopic verbal talent- sucks the marrow out of life- consuming, thinking, wanting, investigating, scrutinizing and noting it all- from knowing the Latin for breasts to reciting sections of the American constitution at will- this guy can not, will not, should not, be stopped.

Singer, song writer, writer, publisher, spoken word artist, actor, radio DJ, stand up comedian, frequent flyer, activist, producer and punk rock legend- there is no one that comes close to the awe-inspiring ball of magnetic power that Rollins wields- and it’s not a power which is purely physical nor animal- but a power which is utterly impressive- impressive in that it presses into the corners of who you are and what you think and dares you to examine/consider your view point and your society and your country and demands you do better than what you know, what you think you know, what is around you and what is accepted. That is what impressive is. I am left impressed upon- changed and transmogrified by his performance.

Don’t be fooled by appearances or prejudice. This is not an aggressive man- his intellect is fierce, and he may look aggressive- but it is his curiosity which is aggressive- not him. It is his ability with words to delicately twist the buzzing rubik’s cube cracking in your cranium which is truly breath-taking.

Armed with a microphone and a voracious appetite for living, Rollins’ routine is a call to arms. This show is a St Crispin’s Day speech for the legion of fans (and soon to become fans) to become better people- to be ultimately curious and accepting and compassionate humans- to go beyond who they are or who they think they are and be responsible and accountable for their actions. This show is not about male aggression, or anecdotes about the evils of money or fame or women. This is a show where nothing is taboo, nor censored, but everything is handled with delicate, poetic, intelligent eloquence- base subject matter is never discussed in a base way- in fact more care is taken to elevate any content which may be a little blue. This show is a cascade of retorts, reflections, reviews, ruminations is a call to arms- and the guns are the firing synapses in the minds of the audience.

Rollins is impressive- his honesty is impressive- his synthesis of ideas is impressive- his memory is impressive- his physical presence is impressive- his voice is impressive – his ability to hold the attention of an audience with merely his voice and his ideas for three hours is beyond impressive- it is simple incredible. I have never, and probably will never see anything like it ever again. Do yourself, and the world a favour: see Henry Rollins.

In the dizzying haze of Stories from the 428- I didn’t get out much to other theatres- I spent alot of my time with a laptop on my lap top or gesticultating wildly at actors (and occasionally chasing them around rehearsal rooms)… and so was mildly shut off from my regular review circuit. During that time, however, one play was mentioned to me in passing by people who had access to “the outside world” as I remembered it- and that play was none other than Tom Holloway’s Love Me Tender.

I, of course wanted to see this play and I wanted to pay to see it too (recently a facebook friend discovered a rant/article first published on www.aussietheatre.com a few years back about the politics of comps and I still hold true to what I said then- PAY FOR WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN!)- so had to wait for the bus to roll on before I could see why everyone was asking me if I’d seen it…

I will also declare that in 2008 (The first year of Brand Spanking New) I commissioned Tom to write (any thing of his chosing) and this was on the back of his AWGIE win… it was a play called ” If I Was to Stay I Would Only Be In Your Way” (it seems song lyrics are prevalent amongst Tom’s titles.) That being said I only met him for the first time last year at the launch of Griffin Theatre Company’s short play compilation: “Short Circuit.” So this is not a review this is a reflection on what I am left with post show. (I didn’t get one of the very schmick programmes with play concealed within- sadly- there were none on the night I went). I am not going to give an account of the story- you can get that from www.australianstage.com.au and if you are after the context of Euripides’ Iphigenia in Aulis- keep an eye on James Waites’s site for a review he’s the master and has a brilliant perspective on this production and he’ll be writing it up soon (so he told me over coffee). My blurt is really what I saw/now remember.

As a co-production between Company B and Griffin Theatre Company- which has a beautiful historical symmetry to it. Belvoir grew out of Nimrod – and here’s the Griffin is (now housed in the old Nimrod space) nurtured by Belvoir in the months leading up to the rennovation of the Stables. Like a set of visual babbushka dolls- I am reminded of the Stables theatre- the show fitting in the Belvoir St Theatre beautifully. There is a lovely symmetry at work spatially- a set made of astro-turf, encased in a perspex sheild- diamond shaped for the Belvoir space- but also reminiscent of the Stables space.

The play opens with rapid fire exposition- a description told with much urgency by Arky Michael and Kris McQuade. And there isn’t much room to ease up once the foot is on this verbal accelarator. We are asked to image/remember alot- too much? We are asked to sit there and ingest a barrage of ideas/commentary as McQuade and Michaels physicalise the visceral poetry of Holloway’s work in their functionary roles of the chorus. Sometimes I found it hard to keep up- hard to listen- and I think that is the point. Alot of this is about the all consuming nature of love- of lust- how images and thoughts and feelings push themselves into us consciously and unconsciously.

Simple and impressive, Lutton’s direction is cleanly/keenly delivered. The play space for the actors is sodden, misted and shiny- glittering under lights. The performances are tight and punchy. It looks like at Lutton show (thanks to Adam Gardnir)- and feels like its coated in STC slickness.

However- looking around the audience of theatre patrons- many were asleep. Drowsy grey haired patrons- sleepy. Was it the mist? Was it the lights? Was it the rapid fire delivery? Why weren’t they awake? Why did I feel sleepy? It felt dreamlike- soft- poetic- and again- I’ll take that as it’s intention. The sneaky, taboo thoughts that press themselves into us are subtle- there is no bolt out of the blue. This is a slow leak suggestion- as sexual suggestiveness can sometimes be- it smears itself across everything like vaseline over a camera lens- and we feel the clarity slip from our thoughts.

Then-
BASH! Like being woken by ice water- or the maniacal rattle of an early morning Marrickville jackhammer- the most astounding dance sequence I have seen in the theatre in recent times. Recognisable, raunchy, repulsive, embarrassing: completely perfect. As Belinda McGory writes and gyrates and pulses her gradually soaked body to teenpop obnoxiousness- I am left shaken- horrified and broken in my seat. The sleepy heads regained their posture now their nap had been broken.

The ideas are loud and clear- the sexualisation of children- the tragedy of intimacy- the burden of sacrifice… and I am trapped an unwilling audience watching the horror of what I know too well to be wildy true about the continual sexualisation of children- played out before me. I am glued. I’m not moved. I am stuck staring- gawking compulsively. Gawking. Powerless and gawking. One reviewer said that there was no connection to the audience. Perhaps- this is a telling (not a showing). The connection is more to do with the audience’s imagination than with the actors- moments of this play could have been a radio play- it is in us. That’s the point. That’s the problem. Holloway’s play asks us to listen and think and imagine- there is very little shown… and that is also the art of seduction. I got sucked in. I went there. I was horrified by what I found.

And grateful.

The 2010 Sydney Festival has afforded me many first experiences- and The Arrival is another- my first experience of New Zealand theatre AND the first theatre production I have seen at Carriageworks. In the past three weeks I have been experiencing a range of Children’s theatre- ranging from local Australian adaptations to large scale adaptations of foreign stories- now an adaptation of a graphic novel by Shaun Tan – “The Arrival”.

The premise of the story is very simple: A man leaves his wife and child insearch of safety and a new life in another country. Like a classic stranger in a strange land story, he experiences the difficulties, and the wonders of this new existance. He encounters people who tell him their story- stories of love and war- which help him find his place.

What is most impressive about this production is the performance which uses barely any dialogue (jibberish is the major dialect) and which introduces a completely other world to us- a world full of surprises and unexpected people (and animals). The performers use puppets, flags, movable sets, momentary costume changes to shift between character and time and space. The scale expands and contracts and we as the audience are lovingly guided through the terrain of this other world.

I have not read (seen/viewed) the book on which this is based- so I can’t tell you how it is inspired and adapted- but this is a beautifully detailed and inventive production which is delightful and sophisticated (especially if you have experienced the surprising and agonising exhaustion of trying to make a home in another country).

The joy is in the discovery of the scale of each moment as it unfolds and contracts and is very much worth the adventure… not sure if younger kids would be as captivated as I was- but I shoudl hope at least they would want a pet cone-eared rabbit creature or a snuffling hat eating dog.

Last Thursday night was my first adventure into the world of Urban Theatre Projects, a company I had long heard about but never experienced their work… why? Perhaps I was frightened off site-specific work during my performance studies degree… perhaps because I am a die-hard L-plater/public transport advocate who feared the late train ride and obscure locations in the Western suburbs of Sydney? I don’t know.

On this occasion, I got to be the date of Mr Waites, who had been working with UTP for some time observing the rehearsal process of this unique company, and helping to write program notes for the project. I also have met the very dynamic and impressive Michelle Kotevski who is the Executive Producer of UTP- so how could I refuse?

On the night, audience congregate like on a ghost tour out the back of the Riverside Theatre- and we cross the road like children- in clusters of stragglers. We walk up the winding path which is dotted with small garden lamps- its like being on a illuminated treasure map. When we reach the top of the stairs we are offered insect repellant – a couple of the audience members seem to be disgruntled that their aftershave will be overwhelmed. It’s opening night.
We walk up through the sandstone building- boarded up and unused. When we get to the chain-link fence surrounding the performance space we are offered a program and a poncho (the sky is milk white with the threat of rain). We herd like cattle up a ramp to the rostra of seating which looks down into a half house.

Someone is sanding a bench outside, someone else is cooking dinner- there is the sound of the crickets- a frangipanni tree drops its bi-coloured stars onto the grass. A 44 gallon drum- rusted- holds a fire within…the door of the shed is open.

It’s a highly evocative show- a docu-drama/peep show into the lives of the household- who seem to be connected- but not through bonds of family nor obligation. Mel (Kelton Pell), is sanding a bench, Connie (Skye Quill) is making dinner, Lou (Helen Dallas) is howling over her recent break up, Chris (Richard Green) has come to visit. The four are together yet separate- working on different parts of their lives. When Joy (Vicki Van Hout) arrives- past tensions flair and things left unsaid for ten years resurface.

Alicia Talbot’s direction is very translucent- the actors move throughout the house and the narrative with great freedom. This work has been devised by the performers in consultation with the community who have experiences of being institutionalised from a young age- in the very buildings that we walked past on our way to the performance space.
This is not an explosive- attention grabbing assault -full of expositional horror and graphic accounts of abuse- it is more refined than this. A slow leak of tension- a ponderous meander into the background hum that haunts these people- the feeling of never quite belonging- never feeling connected- and failing to make long term commitment to anything, anyone or anywhere.

It is more installation than exposition- more fickle than it is reliable- a slippery show indeed… and one worth a few days of reflection.
There were some lovely moments of authenticity- Richard Green’s guitar playing, the attempt of seduction by Lou- and some realistic moments of simmering competition between Connie and Joy… and a rock solid presence of Mel- who is man enough to cry.

I have heard so much about the process- but really I am only interested in what the process gives to the production- and so I won’t talk about the consultation- or the devising process- because I don’t know about this- I can only give my perspective of the production.

Although, I know it was a necessary aspect of production- but some of the vocal warmth and subtlety of the performance was lost in the radio microphones worn by the actors. And at times (as there is such and expansive playing area) it was difficult to connect the voice with the actor and the emotion… for a show so intimate and delicate – this seemed the greatest inconsistency- where sound becomes MUCH larger than the style or the authenticity of the show. It is that area in which the work teeters- somewhere between life and the theatrical. And if this is judged in a theatrical context this play could be analysed for what it lacked as a script, whereas it should be appreciated for the authenticity of what it has… a casual tension, sparseness and spontaneousness which only reality has.

However, this is an astoundingly important show- a show which lingers and leaves an impression- a sticky residue – like that of our history… I deserves our time and attention- this is our history- we must embrace it in its broken, fragmented state and never EVER let this happen again.

What is so impressive about many of the performers is the tradition from which this type of performance springs. Unlike many who yearn to become an actor , not many yearn to become a circus performer- or do they? Perhaps after this hundreds of potential up-close magicians will be developed- or acrobats. This is a celebration of the road less travelled and has at its core a sense of the unusual and the secret. These types of performers are an oddity still – mainly because of the people who choose to see shows of this nature- and I can’t help but be as curious of the audience as I am of the performers. I went to this show last night and there was an impressively large man holding two bottles of wine in one hand and was acting like he was at a cricket game- shouting when he wanted to , getting drunk, touching the performers occasionally, standing up and shifting around- looking like an Aussie Rodney Dangerfield… on the scale of Circus-odd to bourgeois-buffoon-odd…. I know which side of Odd I would rather be on! And perhaps that is part of the fantasy. That we feel more attracted to the circus (the alternative life) than the domestic circus?

Anyway- enough of that. Here’s the review.

As posted on www.australianstage.com.au

Smoke and Mirrors | Sydney Festival

For some, no festival experience is complete without venturing inside the magical world of The Famous Spiegeltent. A patchwork of textured glass, tiny fold out chairs, swathes of rich velvet and suede and trimmed with mirrors- this is a venue steeped in a ninety year history of circus/cabaret performance- and is like no other. This year, as a part of the Sydney Festival, The Famous Spiegeltent is housing the undeniable saucy genius of iOTA in collaboration with director Craig Ilott in a show that lives up to it’s title and it’s history.

A parade of ghostly painted faces (one veiled face) and the occasional po-faced rabbit introduces a very left of centre evening of freak show/circus performance which is completely unrelenting. Ranging from feats of pure physical strength (ThisSideUp acrobatics with Chelsea McGuffin) to songs of surviving love in all its manisfestations (Queenie van de Zandt and iOTA) this artistic kaleidoscope is cheeky and at times breath-takingly surprising. With two spots by a unnervingly talented Todd McKenney who taps his way back in time in both acts, and a series of magic tricks by Timothy Woon with his lovely assistant iOTA suitably dumbstruck and frightened dazzles and divides the audience into blissfully awestruck or squinty-eyed sceptics.

Supported by a four piece band: Tina Harris (bass/guitar), Joe Accaria (Drums/percussion), Chris Ball (Keyboards/saxophone/melodica) and Martin Hailey (guitars, banjo, mandolin) – music swings in many directions like an antique jukebox infused with naughty, saucy delights. iOTA is in command of our attention from the moment the band begins- appearing with a red feather ruff, glittering lipstick and striped socks is the bizarre fancy of a completely unique performer.

Ilott has kept the spirit of the venue and its gasp-drenched traditions alive assisted by Designer Nicholas Dare’s colour palette and sense of humour. It’s a rock’n’roll cabaret with a dark and twisted secret which stumbles into the den of acrobatic sailors, a smiling magician and an aloof hirsute songstress… but it is more than the sum of its parts- Smoke and Mirrors explores the elusive dissembling of lovers. There are parables on sex (Oh Ira), relationships (The Dumber They Come The Better I Like Em), and anthems filled with lust and the impressive four-person tumbling tricks which is based on trust (and practicing trust).

Rarely can the pace of such a cabaret balance physical spectacle with romantic ballads, strobe lights, magic tricks, comedy and deliver a show which reveals as much as it conceals- and the sleight of Ilott’s hand is impressive. Though some may be happy to be dazzled by the surface of this show of mirrors and smoke- for those who look deeper, the heart of the show reflects of the fires of lust/sex/love.

I want to briefly mention the production of Midnite I saw on Saturday at New Theatre… adapted by Richard Tulloch from Randolf Stow’s “The Story of a Wild Colonial Boy”, directed by Jodine Muir and Jennifer Monk.

This is not a review- as I attended the show as a colleague of the new (I know Jenn Monk through Brand Spanking New 2009 where she directed Tamara Asmar’s Queen of The Night Week 1) and I have seen Jodine around the rehearsal room as she runs the Kids Club entertainment for kids at the New- So this isn’t a review- merely a note to congratulate the team on a really fun and well produced show- high energy, enthusiastic and very high quality.

Performances by the hearty and bright ensemble Alison Albany, Sarah Blackstone, Ali Kennedy-Scott, Leof Kingsford-Smith, Sarah Robinson, Romy Samuel, Melissa Saxton, especially that of Thomas Jordon (Captain Midnite) and Angela Lewis (Khat) are captivating… and the set by Maree Freedman is fantastic- complete with a whole house- a cubby house and inventive solutions to a rollicking adventure! Benjamin P Ward has worked wonders with the ensemble adding just enough music so the play keeps moving along. All tickets are $17 and well worth the adventure.

Meanwhile across town another Richard Tulloch adaptation is playing- The Book of Everything…

I love children’s theatre- I particularly love the energy it demands of the performer- the imagination of the writer to robustly balance appropriate material for a wide gammet of developing minds and the minds of the parents who sit next to the child. I love the tension that is created in attempting to excite yet engage a range of ages- according to Belvoir it is 8-108 for their recent offering “The Book Of Everything.”

I noticed today, in my usual scan of reviews and commentary that one audience member wrote to comment on Diana Simmonds Website:
http://www.stagenoise.com/reviewsdisplay.php?id=396
The comment was about violence in The Book of Everything- domestic violence where-in a mother is hit by the father in the stomach.

I don’t deny that The Book of Everything is a little dark- infact it’s themes are actually quite elevated- it’s not a show where enthusiastic WAPPA grads clap their hands and wear pretty dresses- there is a crippled girl (who is beautiful- played by Yael Stone), questions about God and Communism…. I don’t deny that Midnite also has some pretty scarey moments- especially in the Big Grey Gaol! But darkness and difficulty are a part of the world- the safest place for a child to learn that is in the theatre, holding onto the hand of a loved one…. and going through the scariness and the darkness to realise that all the actors are still alive, that their Mum or Dad is still sitting there loving them… and most the time all we are left with is the good stuff- (thomas Klopper pouring red cordial into the fishtank or Captain Midnite escaping from gaol because the cat is so clever).

I would much prefer children see violence on stage than anywhere else… infact I think the news is much more violent. Australia’s Funniest Home Video’s is violent. The horror of things onstage is there to teach us- and it is not a new invention. Hansel and Gretel pushed the witch into an oven! The wolf eats red riding hoods grandmother and the woodsman has to cut her out! CHildren’s stories have always been full of violence- its how we talk to them about violence, their behaviour that counts the most.

Someone told me once that the reason why the name “Macbeth” is not to be uttered in the theatre is not because of its supernatural/bloody themes- but because it is the show that is produced to financially save a theatre on the verge of bankrupcy- and so “Macbeth” has become synonymous with a theatre in trouble. Also apart of this old theatre knowledge- which like all gossip doesn’t know its source nor author- is that A Midsummers Night’s Dream has the same function for a theatre in trouble- because it is a crowd pleaser.

Regardless of the initial reservations (from competing independent companies applying for Bsharp slots) of a Shakespeare in the B-Sharp space-and the expected political grumbles about belvoir staffers getting slots B-Sharp slots- even if this is a safe programming choice in reaction to the GFC- you can’t deny that it is a very fun show.

Eamon Flack’s director’s note talks of the original as one of Shakespeares private plays- filled with in-jokes and mockery of its audience… and has a very amusing interception of Charlie Garber’s belief that all Shakespeares plays were written by Edward de Vere the 17th Earl of Oxford- which is particularly amusing if you went to the University of Sydney and was forced to listen to these and other de-masquerading conspiracy theories as enacted by the very unique “Kinetic Energy Theatre Company.”

And the unformulated- unfounded speculation from Eamon continues – a fantasia about Shakespeare playing Puck etc etc- and I think this directors note is very much in keeping with theatre history- traditions cobbled together with specualtion, storytelling and rumour (and some spicy gossip)… and so I think it is my favourite directors notes I have read this year… especially with the Garber interludes.

For purists- this reading of Midsummers will not be to their liking- but for those who remember the delights of undergrad experimentation at SUDS (Dave Harmon – I think we both know what I’m talking about).. and who wished that Shakespeare was more fun, more irreverently handled and more surprising- this will be your cup of tea!

The cast look genuinely amused by what they are doing- and give as much of themselves to us via the injoke of being at the Belvoir Downstairs space (”Shhhhhh!!!!!! Happy Days!”) . This is not high, lofty art- this is Shakespeare as entertainment for his peers- and Flack is definitely staying tru to that intention with this production. The first lighting design I have seen from Chris Page- which delighted me no end- and the set design by Alistair Watts of the ever unfurling backdrop- makes good use of a tiny space with many locations.

It is a very fun end to the Bsharp season and will push people into the night appreciating that love is the most complicated of all human pursuits.

(By the way, I believe it is sold out- or maybe there are tickets available for Sat night)

Writer: William Shakespeare
Director: Eamon Flack
Cast: Elizabeth Blackmore, Kit Brookman, Katharine Cullen, Gareth Davies, Charlie Garber, Andy Lees, Anya Poukchanski, Tim Spencer and Tim Walter

When I enter the space- not through the usual entrance there is a steady dark drone that growls its throaty hum. Performers walk in the space- three walk slowly along the tops of antique pianos- another welcomes me at the door- another has a goldfish bowl with the sacred undergarment he asks me to respect- another asks me to show her my underwear- another is dragging bodies onto the floor and undressing the ensemble down to their underwear. Light spills lazilly over the bodies slumped in the semi-dark allowing each occasional detail to be amplified- the glint of a toe ring- the curl of a tattoo on a rested foot…

There is one thing for certain- when you go to see a show at PACT- it will be nothing like what you expect- even when you are expecting the unexepected… expect an organism; a city; a culture built on unwantedness and undergarments. Alot of undergarments.

In previous years I have seen a number of shows- involving the smashing of watermelons, slender men in ugly bridesmaids dresses, and many of the PACT ensemble alumni have gone on to do some interesting things- Jenny Leong ran as The Greens representative for the Newtown area in the last election, TK Pok is best known for his work with TANK MAN TANGO
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLFmet0pbvw
Alison Richardson who works with Milk Crate Theatre… this is where the creators of culture and the innovators explore and experiment.

The imPACT Ensemble trains every week for a good six-month portion of the year- developing skills and a line of aesthetic enquiry which draws from multiple performance practice. Since 2002 135 pariticpants have been through the program… no mean feat in an era of “drop in classes”. This is a tight and unique ensemble- advertised as an ensemble on postcards and on fliers. The aims of this development program is to encourage artists to develop their own independent practice- based on a foundation of movement, vocal training and a series of improvisation.

Devising the work starting from the concept of “Unwantedness” with the Ensemble, Michal Imielski has crafted a wonderfully bizarre theatrical experience bookended by some of the most exquisite ensemble work I have seen of any company of emerging artists. Michael Imielski is a director, composer, filmmaker, magician and performer- which is a perfect blend of pracitcal and magical, visual and aural and it seeps through every movement in the three part performance. There is a cheeky dark confidece to this work and it is interesting to note he has worked with some fantastically brave and experimental artists- for example- Barry Kosky, Phillippe Genty (Paris) and Christoph Schlingensief (Germany).

The ideas are honed with a muscular elegance which swings between individual/solo performance work and ensemble explorations. It is so easy with this type of work to ignore the audience- or to be aloof from the audience – or to present work in a smug self serving way so that the audience is alienated and bored…. and Imielski and the imPACT ensemble have taken the road less travelled and have produced a full evening of performance which is funny, unique and completely unexpected.

A complex multilayered presentation of ideas – memory - a fully explained and installed scientific presentation, belonging – in dynamic ensemble work, ritual- the invented, the taboo and the permissable, the prophetic, the enslaved, the superficial… a complete city made of market stalls… a complete logic to the banal things and rituals of society…
and you must absolutely make sure you bring your sense of adventure and humour with you- this is not for the passive spectator- and not for the crossed-arms occassionally sleeping punter- this is highly cheeky and very interactive- make sure you wear your underwear.

Congratulations to PACT, Imielski, Aaron Clarke and the 2009 imPACT Ensemble- this was a truly unique experience- and I will never regard of discarded undies by the side of the road in the same way ever again…. and I thoroughly recommend that Andrew Upton check out what this Ensemble is capable of- just as a point of reference.

created and performed by the 2009 imPACT Ensemble
direction and sound design by Michal Imielski
when 8pm Wednesday – Saturday November 25 to December 12
where PACT 107 Railway Parade Erskineville
how much Full $20 Conc $15 at the door bookings essential via associate@pact.net.au

And for those who weren’t there today at Belvoir Street to see the announcement of the Philip Parsons Young Playwright’s Award for 2009- you missed an interesting day…and an interesting announcement. (attached below is the press release from Belvoir….)

I think it important to note a parallel historical note here about plays that have been joint winners- 1955 there were two plays which won the Award given by the Playwrights Advisory Board- Ray Lawler’s Summer of the Seventeenth Doll and Oriel Gray’s The Torrents. A man and a woman receive awards- and one play is studied widely in schools- and one is not… infact I have never heard of The Torrents. and I wonder why that is: and very happy to accept the retort: “Well, really Augusta, you aren’t very well read.”

And today both a woman and a man won the award: Tahli Corin and Caleb Lewis.

” Caleb Lewis?!??! But didn’t he withdraw?” I hear you ask…

“Well… yes,” I slowly respond… “Neil Armfield says he was “determined not to accept Caleb’s withdrawal from the competition” and they would keep the money ïn trust until Caleb “comes ’round” and that Armfield ended off by saying the ball is in Caleb’s court.”

I can only think a few things about this-
1. The ball may be in Caleb’s court- but he has has put down his racket and decided not to play- the game is over.

2. It seemed to be delivered in a tone which suggested that Caleb didn’t completely understand the grandness of his own gesture- that this is an important award and that he should know better than to refuse such a “serious commission.” Armfield went on to list the success stories of the previous recipients… The Seed, Ruben Guthrie et al… a hard sell really listing why this award is so important- which for me amplifies Caleb’s considered and articulate withdrawal.

3. Cynical I know, but what result could there be that woudl not justify Caleb’s withdrawal but a political decision to neutralize the publicity in this award (and the controversy Company B has experienced since September). This is the King Solomon act of the playwrighting stalemate… and thus- I am swayed more in favour of Caleb’s statement that the topic of debate DID politicize the award- and even if it didn’t mean to because gee there’s a lot of evidence that it did!

Surprisingly in the media release and in the speech today- no one mentioned the name of Caleb’s play that he won the award for- but his letter got quite a few mentions!

Corin’s play “Bumming with Jane”- which I absolutely loved (and reviewed for www.australianstage.com.au http://www.australianstage.com.au/reviews/sydney/bumming-with-jane–collide–b-sharp-1769.html ) is of course mentioned.

The message I received loud and clear today- though I am sure subliminally at times is this: programming and awards and all decisions relating to the priviledging of one piece of art over another comes down to taste NOT merit. And it really depends on who’s sense of taste.

If we had all paid attention to Stephen Dunne’s SMH review (which advertises his “taste” disguised as a sense of “Merit”) – Corin’s Bumming with Jane would not have got a look in-
http://www.smh.com.au/news/arts-reviews/bumming-with-jane/2008/07/24/1216492628748.html
But this is about taste- subjectivity and about connection to work… as Nick Parsons in his opening address described Currency Press’ humble matrix for chosing which work was to be published- “it had to be more than “liked” by those at the table… at least one person needed to feel passionately connected to the work.” This anecdote is about taste… and to say that anyone programmes on merit is (I have decided as of today) a misnomer. They program on that which is personal and unmatrix-able… they programme on their gender, belief, ethnicity, social context, history, world view- and all the random and idosyncratic elements which culminates in the uniqueness of an artistic perspective.

Sometimes it is hard to talk about what you love and why you love it- and why you feel connected to it. There are always (and should be) disagreements about art. I support opposing views whole heartedly- hence why I approve all views on this site- even when I think they missed what I was saying or I thoroughly disagree… because the conversation is the most important thing.

To talk about the issues in theatre is important- but I do believe that today we had to stop talking just as the topic was getting interesting. I believe that this topic deserved a whole day at least, not just 2 hours… this is a big discussion- and needs more attention and more conversation.

I would like to acknowledge all the plays and playwrights that were nominated for the Philip Parsons award this year- Tamara Asmar: you are a wonderful writer and I loved Belle’s Line it was funny and beautifully warm and something I really needed to see and I am not ashamed to say I cried when I sat in the audience at The Old Fitz last year. Nick Coyle you are a very fun and interesting writer and we need your humour and distinct style and I am really glad I saw Hammerhead (is Dead) at The Stables earlier this year. Van Badham you are sassy and sharp and make no apologies for who you are and what you think- Poster Girl was a hoot! Caleb Lewis is a brave and courageous soul and to me a beautifully poetic writer. Tahli Corin is a bright-eyed tireless writer and producer who takes the slings and arrows in her stride with huge grace.

All these playwrights are unique and fascinating- and in my mind equally important to the theatre landscape- and we need you all for what you ask us to think and talk and write about- for the choices you ask us to make for the subjects you raise in debate in your plays and outside your plays….

And for that- I am very grateful. Keep being who you are, fight for what you love and believe in and congratulations – those hours spent dreaming, writing, doubting, redrafting, refining, interrogating and investigating and pursuing ARE worth it.

Media Release from Belvoir Street:
TAHLI CORIN & CALEB LEWIS WIN 2009 PHILIP PARSONS YOUNG PLAYWRIGHT’S AWARD

The Philip Parsons Young Playwright of the Year Award is part of the annual Philip Parsons Memorial Lecture, which this year addressed the issue of women in theatre. Rachel Healy (Director of Performing Arts, Sydney Opera House) introduced a lively discussion which was moderated by Monica Attard (ABC journalist) and included Alison Croggon (theatre notes blogger and critic), Shannon Murphy (emerging theatre director), Marion Potts (Associate Artistic Director, Bell Shakespeare) and Gil Appleton (who has had a long career in broadcasting and the arts) on the panel.
****A transcript or audio recording of the panel discussion will be made available in early 2010. Details of how to access these will be made available via the Company B Belvoir website (www.belvoir.com.au).****

Sydney Ghost Stories is a collection of plays from creative producer Katy Alexander written by six of Australia’s most celebrated and up and coming playwrights: Rebecca Clarke, Verity Laughton, Tobsha Learner, Lachlan Philpott, Toby Schmitz, Stephen Sewell. This collection according to the program notes, started off as a “bare bones” production harking back to the “round the campfire” setting. And from this beginning point it has blossomed into the production that is now playing.

I frighten easilly- and sincerely and deeply ( I am also quick to laugh and will also cry when something is beautiful or poignant- so I am a very soft touch)… and I don’t like scarey movies – they will leave me sleepless and feeling sick… Also I was the woman who screamed loudly on the opening night of Shining City at the ending… so I was somewhat reserved about attending Sydney Ghost Stories. However- there was absolutely no need to be.

The long-time tradition of telling ghost stories relies on low level lighting, a seriousness to the tale (as it is often cautionary), also a willingness for the listener to believe… unfortunately not all the pieces contained these three elements. As plays- stories within themselves- as plays- there was some excellent work- some great moments from the acting ensemble, the writers and a clarity from the directors- but did this work as Ghost Stories? Short answer “no.”

Perhaps the most surprising and truthful ghost story of the evening was introduction by Jamie McGregor- giving the audience exactly what they were after- an old fashioned thrill. The story of the Old Fitz ghost, the history of the pub etc- was extremely interesting and spooky- but the other shows weren’t.Perhaps because the shows were delivered very much as “texts”- as performance pieces- with jerky hissing from the smoke machine- the impressively complex and stylish costumes courtesy of Gallery Serpentine- the bold print of the newspaper print on the back wall of the theatre with “spooky headlines.” Unfortunately this distracted me from the stories- which seemed to center primarilly around Real Estate agents and a feeling like “something sitting on my chest.”

I started to think mid way through that perhaps this production could have have benefitted from less of the “play” style and more of the monologue or direct address style? Or perhaps if the stories had specific local significance? Or perhaps if the stories of the Old Fitz were re-imagined for us? For this truly is an excellent idea- a great concept and will be sure to attract alot of punters- but it is not really what it advertises to be.

Sydney Ghost Stories is nor really what it says it is: more Australian plays about intuition and secrets- which isn’t as catchy, really is it?

However- I think this is a great idea- and I really applaud TRS, Stories Like These and Picture This Productions for mounting these 6 writers in a suite of plays – all new work is important and interesting (and seasons of shorts offer something for everyone). Perhaps next time, Sydney Ghost Stories 2 should be produced in 2010 as a late, late Session- with nothing but torches and monologues in true “ghost story” style?

Sydney Ghost Stories
written by Lachlan Philpott, Rebecca Clarke, Stephen Sewell, Tobsha Learner, Toby Schmitz, Verity Laughton
Directors Katy Alexander, Dean Carey, Glenn Fraser,Toby Schmitz, Anthony Skuse
Venue: Tamarama Rock Surfers at The Old Fitzroy Theatre | cnr Cathedral & Dowling Sts Wooloomooloo
Dates: Nov 25 – Dec 20, 2009
Bookings: www.rocksurfers.org/sydneyghoststories