On a red velvet throne sits a lazy and leather-clad rock god – with a fawning female at his feet. Set in an American wasteland, this is the story of Hoss – a much adored rock god who is told of a gypsy challenger, Crow, who will usurp him.

A fairly simple story with worthy messages of ‘pride comes before a fall,’ ‘fame is transient,’ ‘every dog shall have his day.’ And there are some cautionary sentiments in the play that remind that when you are at the top of your game, expect competitors who are also at the top of their game.

But before I dive/weigh in – some context:

For an excellent examination of the work of Sam Shepherd please check out Kevin Jackson’s response here.

For some interesting questions check out Jason Blake’s review here.

It’s been a week since I saw this show.

It’s been sitting with me this week, as I have been thinking about many of my initial responses to the production, and thinking how I may write about it given the surrounding context of the production. Sydney audiences have had two doses of Sam Shepard on the stage in the last year – Fool for Love (B-Sharp, Belvoir) and True West (Sydney Theatre Company) and an additional momentary reading of a speech by John Malkovich this year from Buried Child (Sydney Festival). So he is definitely in favour right now.

Interestingly, this production had been scheduled for early last year – before the two productions were due for rehearsal – however a development was had instead and so a year later The Tooth of Crime is presented by ATYP’s Under the Wharf program, produced by Arts Radar. The anticipation for this production has been great… and so I was keen to attend the opening, as I have not seen Harmon’s work beyond a short play presented as a part of his Theatre Forward venture at NIDA, The Sneeze. So I was keen to see/hear/acquaint myself with his ideas, aesthetic and interests.

I think choice of play is vital. Every play contains within it a message designed to provoke or interrogate or inspire an audience. I can see why this play is attractive to a director in his first five years since graduating from NIDA’s directors course – it may be an assertion of the new/young guard taking on the established heroes of their industry – after all it was written in the 9th Year of Shepard’s playwriting career.

But for me, perhaps more importantly is the timing of the production – and unfortunately this seems to happen that sometimes a zeitgeist hits the Sydney theatre scene and it appears as though none of .. the literary managers or Artistic directors talk to each other – and so we get a glut of similar ideas or writers at one time. The unfortunate thing for The Tooth of Crime is that only upstairs similar ideas are being presented by the Sydney Theatre Company in Baal… but perhaps to a more sophisticated degree… well.. no, that’s not fair… not so much sophistication but financial degree.

I must insist that the production looks great – and the sound is inventive and appropriately sits in the realm of grunge/acolyptic trance. However – I had no idea about the story. I heard none of the words, I couldn’t understand what was going on for a good 10 minutes – once I had surrendered to “ah, this is a Macbeth type story” notion that popped into my head, I just sat back and admired how beautifully produced the production was (yes a ‘Play with Songs’ ie a play with musicians and appropriate/adequate equipment doubles the demand of the producer) – I also remarked how attractive the costumes were – and how the lights were well thought out and I’m sure fun to colour. I also thought what a stunning acheivement this is – visually -everything is there. The production looks great. All the production elements are well sourced and well facilitated (that’s a huge thumbs up to Sam Hawker/Arts Radar). However, I found it nearly impossible to make out any of the words as the acting was so heavy and muffled. I also thought that perhaps the adrenilin/amphetamine high of the rock’n'roll lifestyle would have helped this production along, but instead it lolled about and was somewhat laboured.

That being said – the pace, and the clarity of the show can be adjusted and solved through out the run of the production, and with a limited time for bump in, these things are sometimes only discovered on opening night (which is annoying because that’s when reviewers come in). So I am hoping that with the remainder of the run these things (already mentioned by other reviewers) will be remedied – and that the show would support the magnificent-looking production built around the performances.

My personal aesthetic favours acting/clarity/simplicity/writing above design – and I think that all theatre (especially independent theatre) should always make sure that the heart and nuts and bolts of the craft of performance (not the craft of production) should be the primary priority. Yes a bit Grotowski of me… but it’s how I roll.

Debbie Tucker Green’s Dirty Butterfly is no easy night in the theatre. But then again, not all theatre is written to be easy. At the heart of so many stories are cautionary tales- unimaginable feats of bravery (or stupidity)- often parables wherein instinct (lust, desire) overwhelms logic and duty to disasterous ends. Launguage – sharp. Direct. Poetic. A rhythm that hypnotises through repetition- like a needle stuck skipping over the same black grooves in the vinyl. It feels scratched. The language- the delivery. Is Scratched. Scratchy. Sentences are clipped- but not neatly. Like a pen franticly scratching it’s ink-blood on the back of an opened envelope. It sounds like. Like? It sounds like. The play sounds like rapid fire gunshots.

With inexorable regularity, Jason (Dorian Nkono) and Amelia (Sara Zwangobani), listen to the sounds of their neighbour Jo (Zoe Houghton), as she is routinely bashed. After a period of time, Amelia retreats into the downstairs- shutting herself away from the horror of hearing the abuse, while Jason is drawn fascinated into the regular occurrences. Listening is the new voyeurism- and Jason becomes obsessively immersed in the trauma and the desperation of Jo’s situation. Jason is seduced. Amelia disengaged. Jo is broken.

Wayne Blair has chosen a minimal approach to the staging of the piece and makes room for the text to be the star. In a simple design of sea-grass matting and a beautifully treated back wall courtesy of designer Teresa Negroponte, the actors are focussed on their task- to speak the words clearly and as pointedly. All language is loaded. All words are ready to be used- actors point their words at each other- language is artillery- and is used as such. The second half of the play is taken out of the drab domestic space and put into the clinical and public space, that of a cafe. Stainless steel chairs and a white gloss floor- the contrast is spectacular.

I stumbled into this article-
http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/theatre-dance/features/debbie-tucker-green-if-you-hate-the-show-at-least-you-have-passion-596009.html
which I think is really useful in that “if you hate the show at least you have passion.” Some may hate the show… they may not like the subject matter, the gore, the style, the design… The strange thing for me is that I felt a curious disconnect with the people in the play- perhaps the dialogue too sharp- perhaps it lacked human warmth? Why am I expecting warmth from this play? What is it in me that I want to empathise? I felt like an aural voyeur- like that of Jason. I was listening- but because I was shown visually (it is theatre after all- and theatre comes from the Greek word “to see”) who was on the other side of the wall- what the bashing looks like- the horror is removed- I don’t connect with it. It becomes a theatrical trick. I was listening to the actors deliver their performances- clearly- sharply. It felt highly formalised- the signs of emotion displayed- and yet nothing stirred in me. I found at times the performances to be as contained and tailored as the language. Alien almost.

What has effected me is the thought about the desensitisation to violence. My acceptance of the situation echoed that of Amelia’s reaction to Jo – and that frightened me. I found it nearly impossible to connect with the characters- as they seemed all consumed in their own world- unaware of the audience.

Debbie Tucker Green’s plays are not easy. For those who saw Lee Lewis’ production of Stoning Mary- you may be aware of the ethical/personal struggles she poses to her audience. Wayne Blair’s production is crisp- perhaps too crisp? I found myself watching but not engaged, which I believe is due to the style of writing overwhelming the story and the humans in the story. Even after sometime, I was not able to fully embrace the poetic jarring of the interchanges between the characters- and perhaps that is the point- that humans fail when language fails?

It was said to Arthur Miller that the inclusion of “Death” in the title of his play “Death of a Salesman” would damage audience attendence as no one would want to see a play that so clearly telegraphed the end of the play… and that it would be somewhat depressing… However, since it’s first production, Miller’s play has gone onto be performed constantly somewhere in the world at any given point in time- highlighting the fact that sometimes theatre managers/script editors should perhaps hold their tongues…

Death in Bowengabbie is the play with which Caleb Lewis was nominated for the 2009 Philip Parsons Young Playwrights Award – having enjoyed a season at the Adelaide Fringe in 2009. For me was the only play of the five finalists, I had not seen. Interestingly- three of the five PA Award finalists have had their shows produced at the Old Fitzroy Hotel- a venue which is now the primary avenue for New Australian plays by emerging and young writers to see their work performed, since the Griffin Independent Season has changed to housing “the best new international scripts” to compliment their all-Australian mainstage season.

The play follows Oscar’s return to his hometown of Bowengabbie – a town build and ruined by his fruit farming forebears- to attend a funeral. On the cusp of all things “successful,” he is engaged to Ruth- has a job offer in Dubai and hasn’t been back to Bowengabbie in sometime.
While he is back (for a series of themed funerals) he is reacquainted with the people who stayed and begins to question the life he is leading.

Scattered darkbrown suitcases, gleaming glass jars empty of jam- fringed by fallen sycamore leaves- and a collection of anitque “junk” – this set is the most sophisticated, simple- elegant and atmospheric I have seen perhaps ever at the Old Fitz… it’s like I can smell the houses of Bowengabbie- and I can hear the crackle of the radio playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” from the kitchen of a soft skinned nanna… Verity Hampson’s set is perfect.

Andrew Brackman is a charming and energetic Oscar who morphs and evolves across many characters… a carousel of differing ages, genders and backgrounds who keeps the story evenly paced and clear… adding moments of theatrical delight as he paints pictures with simple props and costume.

In Death in Bowengabbie it is the script which is the star of the show- poetic and heartfelt, textured and unpretentious… Lewis has woven together a fabric of words which reveals and conceals in equal measure- allowing us to see and reflect on what it is to go home- what it means to be estranged from where you grew up- what the true value of progress is… Funny, and tender – Lewis has balanced love story with funerals; progress with exploitation; country with city in a loving yet whimsical way. If nothing else, the words caught my breath and gave me a lump in my throat, as I sat transported and enthralled by the story…

It’s easy to see why this was the well loved yarn of Adelaide’s Fringe… simple, funny, tender and brave…This is honest, authentic storytelling, beautifully written and the best piece of Australian theatre I have seen in six months. Lewis and Brackman have done a stunning job- and more than ever, I want to return to my own “Bowengabbie,” gaze at the stars whilst eating a soft serve.